A Shark, a Goldfish and the Village Idiot
by Moonunit
Summary: This is a weird romantic tale of how Molly and Mycroft became friends and so much more. It was completely Sherlock's fault for he did ask his dear brother to keep a weathered eye on his friends and more importantly Molly…and so the story begins…
1. Chapter 1

I don't own these characters...You should be very thankful about that...

Note: I *love* Sherlolly yet I also have a Molly and Mycroft weakness much like my weakness towards sweets…This is my first Molly and Mycroft story and if readers like this perhaps it will not be my last. I *love* reading stories that have them getting together. I get a trill when I see new stories/parts come out and this story is*very* weird but then my writing name is moonunit so really what do you expect? I had this idea while on a dangerously low blood sugar diabetic thing (all while reading a fantastic Molly and Mycroft story) and when I got my blood sugar back to normal this idea wouldn't leave me alone so I simply had to write this. I do hope you enjoy…Mental hug~ Moonunit

Summary: This is a weird romantic tale of how Molly and Mycroft became friends and so much more. It was completely Sherlock's fault for he did ask his dear brother to keep a weathered eye on his friends and more importantly Molly…and so the story begins…

~*~PART 1~*~

'_What is the meaning of it, Watson?' Said Holmes solemnly as he laid down the paper. 'What object is served by this circle of misery and violence and fear? It must tend to some end, or else our universe is ruled by chance, which is unthinkable'…_

~The Cardboard Box by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

* * *

(A month after Sherlock faked his death and left London to destroy Moriarty's network)

Molly Hooper worked at St. Bart's Hospital, the morgue actually. She loved it there. She felt so comfortable and safe there. It was her second home, her first being her lovely small flat that she shared with her beloved cat Toby.

Though she sometimes thought her cat allowed her to stay with him. For as with all cat lovers everywhere accepted the sacred truth that humans never owned a cat. The cat owned the human. She, of course, happily accepted this fact. To receive that beautiful purr when she did something right was all the payment she needed.

That however was what she loved about her first home…and right now her second home…Well, she was in the part she didn't like. The hectic, crazy and very much alive part of the hospital. She didn't like the noise. The worry or the heartbreak she sometimes witnessed.

Molly especially didn't like another doctor with gloved fingers touching her. She _hated_ hospitals. The parts of it that were not the morgue or the labs…She loved those areas. Could and have spent the whole day in those areas very happily.

No, this part of the hospital she could do without. She could especially do without creepy Doctor Kevin Martin. She never liked the man ever since their first meeting when he asked if she liked girls and if she would like to meet up with him after work…And unluckily for her all the other doctors in the emergency were busy so here she was stuck with man who's destiny it was to have her foot met his groin.

She glared over at her good friend, Greg Lestrade. She had never known him to be evil until now. He smiled back at her as if he was a perfect heavenly angel.

"Greg…" She growled.

"Molly." He said in a completely cheeky and friendly manner, reminding her that he was in no way angelic.

"I called you tonight for your help in a simple matter in how to report a mugging! I did not expect or need you to drop everything and run to my side like some silly action hero…and then you drag me back to Bart's for this!"

His shrug at her heartfelt words made her angrier. She honestly didn't think she was a violent woman but she had a strong desire to hit him.

"Molly, do you remember the second month of us working together that first time? Years ago?"

She glared even more as she slapped at Kevin. His hand didn't need to rest on her boob, it might be small but it wasn't nonexistent. "Yeah, so?"

There was a tender look on his face as he remembered the event, "You had told me about your brother. How I reminded you of him. How before he died all he ever talked about was becoming a good cop. You knew he would have been a good man. You told me that if he had lived you thought I'd be almost a clone to him."

Her anger left her as if it never existed. At least, her anger towards Greg…Kevin on the other hand…

"You are, you know. A lot like him. Seeing you, thinking about how you are like him should hurt. I know it should and I miss him…yet it's strangely a gift instead. Knowing you…Having you as a friend. It's a good thing."

Greg gave her a soft smile, "What would your brother do if you had called him with the message, 'sorry to bother you but how do I go about reporting a mugging for I've just been mugged and I'm a bit shaky and ow…that really hurt'."

She looked away to state softly, "He'd have dropped everything and ran to my side and forced me to the hospital even though I hate them!"

"You work at this hospital, Molly." Greg stated dryly.

"I work in the morgue and a totally cool lab…This is different…I swear Kevin if you touch my boob again I will seriously bruise you in your groin area!"

"T-That was a complete accident, Molly!"

"Well, it will not be an accident when I hurt you so stop testing me! I've already had a bad day, so stop it!" Molly yelled before talking in a normal tone to Greg. "I'm really alright. Seriously, the mugger didn't even get my bag. So I'm a little bruised and my arm hurts like hell—otherwise I'm good."

Greg suddenly stopped smiling and his face hardened as he studied the painful looking bruises upon the left side of her face and the even worse looking arm. It was turning an ugly red and he could still see where the strap had embedded and snaked itself around her arm.

"Yeah, we're going to talk about that." Greg stated seriously and with a slight cold edge to his tone.

"Yeah, Danny would have given me a lecture too." She muttered darkly looking over at him.

She could tell he almost smiled.

"So…What would he have said? Hmmm?" Greg asked her.

She blinked at him before looking down at her hurting arm. She sighed before saying in almost sulking way, "I should not have tried to walk home alone in the dark…Even if thousands of Londoners do so every bloody night! Nor do I live all that far away…Also, I should not have fought my mugger but honestly the purse strap wrapped itself around my arm and tightened itself like a snake each time he yanked on it. I don't see how I could not have screamed and fought back! I feel a little bad about hurting him in the groin area…Not too badly, of course…Yet, that moron should have known better than to try to steal what was not his…"

"Molly…" Greg chastised.

She winced before saying softly, "Sorry, I… I'm sorry if my actions tonight scared you… Thank you for caring, Greg."

"Always," He whispered back before kissing the side of her head, in a sweet completely innocent fashion.

She closed her eyes as she remembered the rare times Danny did the exact same thing to her. For a moment, just a moment she felt as if he was there whispering in her ear, _'You need to take better care of yourself, sis…'_

"I'm giving you a ride home. No arguments from you, Molly, none at all…"

Molly suddenly heard Greg say, breaking her away from an illusion. She looked at him with a sad almost heartbroken eyes before she agreed, "No arguments."

*end of part 1*


	2. Chapter 2

Okay in Season two Mycroft called Molly…_Miss_ Hooper…First thought, was _why_ seeing she's a _doctor_…Second, was maybe it's a Holmes thing to annoy people…Third maybe it's his version of pulling the pigtails of a girl he likes on the play ground…or maybe…Oh, hell, I could come up with a lot of reasons…and have actually…anyway I decided after much internal debate that he'd call her Dr. Hooper in this story…Please don't be surprised if in a future story he calls her Miss Hooper…all depends on this sorry writer's mood I guess…Mental Hug ~Moonunit

~*~ Part 2~*~

He was a man of habits, narrow and concentrated habits, and I had become one of them. As an institution I was like the violin…

~The Creeping Man by Arthur Conan Doyle

* * *

Molly had informed Greg that he didn't need to walk her towards her well-lit door. So he sat in his running car and watched her unlock the main door of her building. She waved at him but knew from experience that he would wait about a minute or two after he saw the light come on from her living room window and then he would expect an 'All is good. Night.' Text before he'd drive away.

Greg was a good friend, sure he could be at times a bit over protective but after everything he'd seen as a cop…

She didn't mind, really.

It was nice that someone cared. She knew as a Scotland Yard detective he had seen so much misery and death that he didn't want anything to happen to her. For some reason she mattered to him and she did treasure their friendship.

As she had grown to know him over the years she had realized something quite profound in his protectiveness spirit. That as much as he reminded her of her brother Danny she in return reminded him of the sister he had lost. Not that he ever said that out loud but there were moments when he'd look at her with a sad look…and there had even been a strange moment once when he unthinkingly called Molly, 'Kate'. They had both ignored that moment, pretending it never happened.

Greg's sister…Kate had been what lead him to becoming a cop. He felt he hadn't protected her as a big brother should have. Yet, he had just been a child himself. Now, as an adult he put Molly under his protective wing…

He never really talked much about her. Just a few times. The first time he'd talked about her had been a night that she had worked on the body of a little girl and Greg stood there watching with tight fists and haunted eyes.

Somehow he had allowed himself to open up to her and spoke about Kate. He spoke of the day she had gone missing how he as the older brother had been told to watch his younger sister. To stay at her side. He told her how a small trip to the store had ended up in a nightmare. He had lost her.

She had been ten and he had been thirteen. Days later Kate's body had been found by the river and an old detective had promised a young teenager that he would find the bad person who had done this. Justice would happen.

The man with the badge had kept his promise.

Molly had known that without asking Greg had promised himself that he'd catch the little girl's killer as well. The little girl that had been laid out on her table and she had done her best to help him keep that promise.

She never told anyone about Kate or what had lead Greg into law enforcement. For that was his business. As if Greg knew he could trust her, he had once shown her a picture of his sister that he had kept in his wallet. An old picture that had his sister, so young and forever at the age of ten.

Anyway, he was a very good friend and she hoped she was a good friend in return.

When she stopped at her flat's front door she thought about John Watson. Also, a good friend. Pain and guilt stabbed at her as she realized that she wasn't a good friend towards him.

Yet, Sherlock had told her that it was necessary. He had said that he needed John to totally believe in the deception of his death or everything they had done would be for nothing.

So, she had helped lie to John and tragically hurt a good man and friend. Simply because Sherlock had told her with great honesty that he needed her. He trusted her above all others to do this. To help deceive Moriarty's people, the world, and more importantly Sherlock's best friend, Doctor John Watson.

Why? Why would she do anything and everything for Sherlock Holmes?

Perhaps because he was exactly that, he was Sherlock Holmes.

The smartest and the most brilliant man she had ever met and no one was smarter. To be perfectly honest with herself, she had a serious weakness towards smart men.

She suddenly opened her door and turned on the lights not bothering to look around as she tossed down her keys and quickly typed out a text to Greg. After she sent it she leaned against the door with a heavy sigh before placing her phone into her pocket.

"What a day…" She whispered with her eyes closed. "Hell, what a month…"

Her eyes were still closed as she suddenly straightened. Something was…Off…

Toby always ran towards her the moment she entered her flat. His loud meows of greeting and more likely complaint…Letting her know she was a horrible slave towards him for never spending enough time to spoil him which was his right. He liked her knowing that his food dish was not as full as he liked it. Perhaps even telling her in his own cheerful way that he had left a present for her in her favorite well worn kitty slippers once again.

Yet, there was no Toby…No Toby equaled something was wrong.

No wait…

He was happily purring. Her dear sweet devilish Toby never trusted or liked people all that much. He had liked Sherlock however. It had been a strange moment, never having been at her place before, Sherlock had entered her flat as if he had owned it and had informed her that he was taking her bedroom for he needed the space and she could sleep on her lumpy sofa. Toby had acted as if he had found the love of his life…Sherlock's coat, much to the great detective's horror. He had purred then to.

So if he was purring, maybe…just maybe…

Molly found herself slowly relaxing.

She opened her eyes expecting to see Sherlock and instead saw his brother. She blinked before tilting her head to study the man sitting in her favorite overstuffed brightly flowered pattern chair. He was petting her cat and Toby glanced at her in pure bless.

"Well, hello, do you often break into other people's flats to sit in the dark all the while petting their cat, Mr. Holmes?"

Mycroft Holmes' lip curled into almost a snarl. "Of course not, Dr. Hooper. It seems as if your feline is a very determined creature. He refused to leave me alone."

He carefully removed the big tom cat from his lap and stood. Molly never witnessed someone bush off unwanted fur with such elegance before. Yet, she also never had a man wearing a suit worth a thousand times more then what was in her bank account, in her flat before either. She guessed there really was a first time for everything…

Molly sighed heavily before asking, "So, did you at least do my dishes?"

Mr. Holmes stopped what he was doing to look at her in total shock, finding that question truly surprising. "What?!"

Molly tried not to smile though she was positive that her attempt had seriously failed. Badly.

"When I was a little girl, there was this guy who liked to break into other people's homes. Not to steal anything…He'd break in to wash their dishes and if that didn't need to be done he'd scrub their floors. When caught, the police asked him why and he replied that he liked to clean. I think he simply liked the thrill of breaking in and his cleaning was his way of letting the owner's know he had been there."

"Sorry to disappoint but I didn't show up to do your dishes, or scrub your floors or even for a thrill." Mr. Holmes tone as he told her this made Molly laugh. He actually looked taken aback.

"Oh, I know! You broke in to pet my Toby!" She was tempted to use another word for her cat but felt that might be much too naughty especially in front of him…That thought made her laugh some more.

"Dr. Hooper…"

"He does love the attention…All that petting and purring and more petting…" Molly gave a joyful giggle.

"I did not break in to pet your cat!" Mycroft yelled, looking highly annoyed.

Molly stopped laughing and moved away from the door and picked up a cute kitty cookie jar. "Yes, right, you've come to talk. You just happened to end up petting my little devil with the lights turned off, which some might find creepy mind you, as you waited." She opened the cathead lid and tilted the jar his way. "Biscuit?"

Mr. Holmes simply stared at her. Molly shrugged before she reached in to grab a biscuit for herself before sitting down the jar.

"You…are an odd woman, Dr. Hooper."

She slowly nibbled on her chocolate chip biscuit before replying, "Well, I think you are an odd man, Mr. Holmes."

He eyed her coldly, his face like a harsh stone. Molly wondered what would happen if she suddenly reached out to see if he was ticklish. She smiled wide at that thought. Something flickered behind those icy eyes. She wasn't sure what it was but it made her blink. Her smile faded slightly, before she looked at him with hopeful eyes.

"Are you here about your brother?"

He looked down at Toby who was rubbing against his legs as if Mr. Holmes was filled with nothing but catnip. It took him a second before he looked back at her. "Why else would I be here, Dr. Hooper? Your company is of no great importance to me."

"Oh, I know that Mr. Holmes." She stated smiling once more. She was nearly provoked into saying that his company didn't matter to her either but that felt almost too childish and so she decided against it.

"Tell me about Sherlock." Molly demanded instead.

"He's fine. He will of course take his sweet time in taking down Moriarty's network, but take it down he will do. I estimate it will take him two years and I'm always right in my figures."

Molly walked over to pick up a framed picture of Sherlock. In the photo he looked annoyed, mostly because she had been taking a picture of him. If she remembered correctly he was also seriously annoyed about a case that was giving him trouble at the time. Even annoyed, the man looked incredibly handsome.

"I'm happy to hear he's doing okay. It means a lot knowing that. So, thank you Mr. Holmes for taking the time to let me know this. It's really nice of you."

She heard him give a sigh and then there was an odd noise that made her look away from the picture to him. He had picked up a long elegant looking umbrella that she hadn't noticed when she had come in. It must have been resting against her armchair.

"I didn't actually come to tell you that." Mr. Holmes told her quietly.

"Why? If not that, why come to see me at all?" She asked him curiously, her hands refused to let go of her picture of Sherlock. The man before her seemed to notice this.

"You are a stupid woman." Mr. Holmes informed her cruelly. Making her wish she was angry enough to smack him hard in the face. However, she didn't feel angry at all. She was much too tired and her arm was slowly starting to kill her.

He continued, "For some reason, my dear brother, cares about you." He said the word 'cares' as if it was a nasty disease.

She pressed the frame of Sherlock to her chest. "Really, Sherlock cares about me?" Molly found herself saying even more hopefully than before. Her fingers unconsciously caressing the back of the frame.

Again something moved within those seemingly cold eyes. A flash of something. It moved much too quickly for her to catch or to try to figure out what it was. Whatever that thought had been seemed to annoy him greatly.

"You are one of his _friends_." The word 'friends' sounded completely ugly and hateful coming from his lips. So much so that she tilted her head and studied him as she would one of her lab samples.

He continued, "Sherlock asked me before he left to keep a weathered eye on Doctor Watson and you. _Especially you_."

Molly couldn't help but smile. Sherlock Holmes did indeed care! Her favorite high-functioning sociopath had chosen to care about her and treat her as a trusted friend…

Her fingers tightened on Sherlock's picture. Happily she thanked Mr. Holmes again.

"Yes, well…" Mr. Holmes looked around before pulling and trying to straighten his expensive gray business suit. "My weathered eye only goes so far. It does _**not**_ help when you, Dr. Hooper, go out for walks at night; just to get yourself mugged. I came personally to tell you to stop being such a _stupid girl_!"

Okay, now she was angry and to show it she glared at him. "It's not my fault—"

"You willingly went for a walk at night in a highly questionable neighborhood! Of course, it's your fault!"

"The highly questionable neighborhood you're speaking about is where I live!" She informed him hotly.

"What? Are you going to blame that on your mugger too?" Mr. Holmes shot right back. It was odd how much fire could exist behind such arctic eyes.

"Oh, piss off!" She yelled at him as she set Sherlock's framed picture down with a thud. She tightened her jaw before she breathed heavily through her nose in hopes that when she spoke she sounded calm. "Mr. Holmes, I seriously doubt that you are as smart as your brother, so please let me point out my door to you. It's right behind you. Use it!"

She watched his eyes narrow. "I'm not as smart as Sherlock, no, I'm much, much, smarter."

Molly laughed, she honestly couldn't help it.

"Highly doubtful, Mr. Holmes. No one could be smarter than Sherlock. _Especially you_." She told him in a completely carefree manner before she waved him towards the door. "Goodnight. Thanks for the so called weathered eye and what not."

He made no move towards her door. "Why did you say, _especially me_? For I *_**am**_* the smart one."

She slowly blinked at him and intensely studied him once more in thoughtful silence. "You, Mr. Holmes seems to be a man who does not believe in friendships. You don't see the need or the strength behind such things. You probably see them as a great weakness or a myth that only fools believe in. That Mr. Holmes tells me that you are _**not**_ the smart one."

"All because my dear foolish brother believes in the power of friendship that seriously makes him smarter in your eyes?" Mr. Holmes questioned his hand now upon the doorknob. "Dr. Hooper all you are proving to me is that you are nothing more than the village idiot."

Oddly enough, Molly wasn't offended at all. He was allowed to speak openly about his opinion just as she was with hers. Instead she smiled sadly, "There are days I feel like one, Mr. Holmes."

This time he blinked at her, as if her response was completely unexpected. He suddenly shook his head. "Goodnight, Dr. Hooper."

"Does it bother you?" Molly found herself asking not sure exactly why she needed an answer.

"Does it bother me that you are a village idiot, no, not at all." He informed her dryly.

"No, I meant…" Molly shook her head before asking, "Does it bother you that your brother has friends?"

"Yes, for he should know better. Again goodnight." He began to open the door to leave yet stopped once more at her laugh. He looked at her questioningly.

"He never wanted or needed _friends_. It wasn't until he met John Watson. Hell, Greg and I were his friends for years before he had even met John! He never even realized that fact. He use to make do with that silly skull of his." She glanced at the picture of Sherlock with great fondness. "Anyway, thanks for stopping by and breaking in…"

He shut the door. It looked like he decided against leaving at the moment. Mr. Holmes seemed surprised perhaps by the fact that he still hadn't left and because he suddenly seemed to have deduced something that made him incredibly curious.

"My brother hurts you…emotionally…quite often…"

Molly shrugged. "He's Sherlock. He can be a brutally cruel man, it's his way…His method…He doesn't always realize it and there are times he comes to the realizing of just how hurtful he can be and actually apologizes…There are not many people he does that too."

"Why the bloody hell are you his friend if he's been known to hurt you?"

"Why not? Sherlock Holmes might indeed be a cruel at times but there is always a raw honestly behind it. A reason for it. Sometimes he doesn't even realize he's doing it. I'm his friend because he has a brilliant mind and every once and awhile he trusts me enough to allow me to see his great heart he's been known to hide so well. Every now and then he does something to remind me that he is human. I've come to live for those moments, Mr. Holmes. I'm also his friend…A friend that can plainly see that he's not always cruel in his methods. He lets me be part of his life, even if it's a small part. He allows me, a nobody, to be his violin. He is a beautiful musician and I never mind it when he plays me. Because if I'm his violin then for a moment, a single wonderful moment I'm somebody special…Perhaps because of that I will always be willing to forgive him…and because he'd my friend. There is great strength to be found in friendships and I treasure that above all else. It's kinda sad that you've never tried to have a friend yourself and know such loyalty. It's a pity really."

"I don't want or need your pity…" Mr. Holmes informed her frigidly, "And in a world full of goldfish I have no need for friends."

This time he opened the door and stepped out of her flat.

Molly wasn't sure why but she had to have the last word for once in her life and there was just something about _him_… "Oh, I'd never pity a man such as you, Mr. Holmes. Not when you are so damn jealous about what your younger brother has…"

Mr. Holmes stopped dead in the doorway and shot her an icy look. A look that should have frozen her to the very core of her soul. It had no effect on her. She simply didn't care, she wanted to take a pain pill and go to bed, so she continued, "And I'm not talking about him having friends. Oh, no not that. It's loyalty I now speak of_. You have to buy it or make others fear you to receive it._ _While your brother gets loyalty for free_. Hmm, do you think it's because he has friends?"

He didn't say a single word, maybe he couldn't speak. Frozen he stood there; he honestly looked as if she had savagely slapped him. In that moment he looked completely human. Just for that single moment, she thought she could see into his heart and soul. Neither of which looked at all cold, dark or even indifferent. She watched him swallow hard before turning away; he finally left and quietly shut her front door.

Her small victory felt hollow for she never meant to hurt such a prideful man.

She looked over at Sherlock's picture. For a second the light from her lamp made it look as if there was great amusement in those beautiful eyes. Feeling guilty she sighed before telling the picture, "Gee, for being such a powerful man, your brother is so fragile…"

~*~End of Part 2~*~


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you so much Empire of Fiction for the lovely review. I do hope you continue to enjoy :-)

* * *

~*~ Part 3~*~

'There's an east wind coming, Watson.'

'I think not, Holmes. It is very warm.'

-His Last Bow by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

* * *

"Oh, Molly…" Doctor John Watson breathed as he studied her face.

Molly sighed as she sat down before turning her bruised face away. Hoping the shadows from the soft lights and small candles would help hide the ugliness of the still sensitive bruises. "It looks much worse than what it is." She lied.

She had agreed to meet with John at this little restaurant that Sherlock had been known to take them to a couple of times. The owner, Angelo, would always give Sherlock a free meal for the great detective had proven Angelo wasn't a murderer. A burglar, yes, a murderer, no.

Sometimes, Angelo, would give them too a free meal as well. Because any friend of Sherlock's meant free meal at Angelo's. It seemed like a good enough reason to put up with Sherlock's annoying and sometimes crazy behavior. They always insisted that they pay for the wine and they would also leave a tip. A large one.

John once told her how the man always thought he was Sherlock's date and boyfriend, even at John's insistence that he was neither of those things. Molly found it to be hilarious when she finally got to join the two men and see this all for herself. What caused her even greater merriment was even when she joined them John had still been treated like Sherlock's date.

Now, with the world thinking Sherlock was dead, the man treated John like a grieving widower.

"_I loved him, John but you loved him much more…" Angelo informed them both so passionately, "I will make you whatever you want personally…Anything at all! As well as Sherlock's sister, ask and it is yours!"_

Molly thought it very silly that the owner thought John was more than Sherlock's friend for he always seemed to have an eye out for beautiful women nearby. She had also found it cute that the man thought she was Sherlock's sister. Sherlock, when he had been with them of course, never corrected him and simply smiled as if he knew a delightful secret that only he knew. Perhaps it was because both men at the table had known that her feelings for Sherlock were in no way sisterly. Her crush on the man would have made that creepy in so many ways.

She did however treasure the both of them greatly…Speaking of treasure…

Treasure…One day she wouldn't mind being seen as a treasure. To be loved and…well, not to be alone. There was a strong chance that she'd never be anyone's treasure though there was always hope and she wouldn't mind having a treasure for her own. Love. Trust. Loyalty. Respect. All those things were what her parents said they had. A lovely treasure chest full of all those things…

Her thoughts were cut short as she heard John beg her gently, "Promise me, Molly, please that you won't take anymore walks at night."

Molly rolled her eyes. "John…"

"Please, Molly, I work at Bart's now so if you feel the need to walk home at night I will be quite happy to walk with you."

"That would surely be a bother for you, John. You live in a totally different direction!"

"No, it really wouldn't be a bother at all. What would be a bother is if something were to happen to you…"

"John…" Molly attempted to cut in.

"I already lost Sherlock! I'm not ready to lose another friend. I don't have many friends, Molly, especially friends that cared about my best friend. Also one that never once believed all those lies those rubbish reporters wrote about in the papers…I…I miss him greatly, Molly…"

"I…I miss him too, John." Molly told him honestly. She did miss Sherlock and hurt for John, really she did. Molly was not at all comfortable with the secret that she kept from her dear friend.

Yet, for Sherlock she'd keep as many secrets as necessary. His voice from the past gently reminded her…

"_I need you to help me keep John safe, Molly. Please. If John believes with all his heart that I'm dead then Moriarty's men won't hurt him, or kill him, or try to use him to get to me. Hopefully, one day, I'll let him in on the truth, but it must come from me and only when I'm absolutely certain that no harm will come to him from Moriarty's people in some sick form of revenge. I must destroy Moriarty's network completely to insure this, Molly. I am trusting you, above all others, and I know my trust is not misplaced."_

Molly felt her eyes grow wet as she remembered her promise to Sherlock as she now promised John that she wouldn't no longer go out for walks at night by herself.

"So…" Molly decided to ask what she hoped wouldn't be too sensitive of a question. "Is it true what you said in your last post? You'll no longer continue your Blog?"

John looked down at his food with a shrug. "I no longer have anything interesting to talk about. I mostly wrote about my best friend and the crazy adventures we once shared. I don't have either one of them anymore."

"That's sad." Molly muttered, "I think you are a lovely writer."

John gave a snort. "Sherlock always said differently."

"We have both read his 'Science of Deduction' website. There is a reason not very many people ever stayed on that site for long."

John gave a real laugh. "I once said something like that to Sherlock and he acted like a three year old for the rest of the bloody day."

Molly laughed with him. "I have no hardship in picturing that!"

After a moment and their laughter faded into nothingness John quietly admitted, "I've left Baker Street. Moved out."

Molly nodded sadly. She had been expecting to hear that for quite some time now. The place was much too haunted with Sherlock's memory for John to ever stay and continue to remain sane.

"You should have a little get together when you are ready or if you need help unpacking or something…I'm happy to help."

"I had thought to ask your help with my moving out of 221B but then Greg told me a funny story about the time you helped him and his wife move."

Molly felt herself turn red with embarrassment. "Really, he told you about that?"

John laughed before taking a sip of his red wine. "The way I hear it you are safer with a handful of pillows and even then it's highly questionable…"

"God…" Molly choked on a laugh. "You are so right…"

It was a nice night. They laughed and shared…John even told her about a new girl he'd met named Mary. In his eyes there was something growing. Hope of what could be. Hope that maybe she was _the one_.

Molly couldn't help but feel a little envious. Not because she had any romantic interest in John, never that but because she never seemed to get that interest from a guy. If she did he wanted to use her for something. In uni there had been a guy who dated her in hopes that she'd do his research paper for him and of course Moriarty. Seriously, Sherlock was right, she had horrid taste in men.

John wasn't the type to use a lady. He would woo and court her and try his best to be a good boyfriend. Before Sherlock's fake death that was always a bit of a challenge. Mary was indeed lucky in many ways. She was allowed to know John without Sherlock reminding her that as John's friend he wanted to always come first.

As Molly slowly finished her dessert she decided it wouldn't hurt to tell him about Mycroft seeing her in her flat. She wasn't sure why but she really didn't have anyone else she could talk to about it.

"Mycroft came to see you?" John questioned with a little shock as well as some horror.

Molly nodded slowly with a small smile. "He said he was keeping a weathered eye on us."

"Well, he can take his weathered eye and screw himself with it!"

Molly laughed out loud. "Goodness, John tell me how you really feel! Don't hold anything back!"

John smiled at her half-heartedly yet there was deep concern in his eyes. "Did he threaten you? Try to intimidate or harm you in any way?"

Molly's laughter faded as if it never existed. She tilted her in thought. "No, John. He simply stopped by my flat for a friendly visit. That's all."

He looked at her as if she had suddenly grown another head from her neck. "Men like Mycroft don't simply stop by for a friendly visit."

"Okay, perhaps he wasn't all that friendly. Well, except towards my cat. Toby absolutely loved him." Molly told him honestly.

"Well, I hate to tell you this but your cat can tend to be an idiot. He's a cute idiot, no doubt, but still an idiot. I found that video you placed on line with him chasing the light from that flashlight. He was moving all over the place. When you turned off the light he slid into a wall and then meowed looking for the light where he ran into the wall once more without the light…"

"You watched the video more than once, didn't you?"

"It's really hard not too…Molly, if heaven forbidden there is a next time where Mycroft seeks your company please tell him to piss off and leave you alone! Nothing and I mean nothing good can come from his visits."

"He doesn't seem like a bad man, John. I simply see a lonely man who's not even smart enough to realize just how alone in the world he is."

John sighed, looking put upon, "You have a big heart, Molly, a good big heart. That can be a wonderful thing except it will always get yourself hurt. Don't let a man like Mycroft Holmes crush it because he will and he will be very apathetic about it because that is the kind of heartless bastard that he is."

She gave a shake of her head."You make it sound like I'm going to have a relationship with the man. Which I'm not, by the way... Lov—um…Caring about one Holmes bother is enough for me, thanks."

"Well, Sherlock deserved your love and loyalty. He was a better man because of it. You were the first and only person he ever gave a heartfelt apology too, you know, _the only one_. And he once gave me sugar that he was certain had a nasty drug in it. I also suspect he gave me something in my food once that made me miss an entire Wednesday! Never once did he say he was sorry…" John told her as he remembered what his best friend use to do to him and what he was certain his friend would never do again.

"Because he wasn't sorry. For all his faults he is…was…honest. At least if he lied there was a reason behind it. Mostly for a case…" Molly stated softly.

John shook his head. "Anyway, all Mycroft deserves is a punch to the face. He…He is one of the reasons why we lost Sherlock. He is partly to blame for what happened to my best friend and I will never forgive him for what happened. Ever."

"You lost a best friend, John. Mycroft lost a brother. He won't ever take Sherlock's place in our hearts, but he doesn't deserve our hatred either. He's human, whether he wants to be or not and humans make mistakes all the time."

John leaned forward. "Do you know Sherlock once called him the most dangerous man I'd ever know? He is the British government. He lives the highly classified life. He's even been known to help other governments and have worked with the CIA. A man with that kind of power will always be hated. For to keep that kind of power he had to do some very cold and monstrous things…He's a big scary shark, Molly…"

"John…"

He held up his hand before continuing with complete honestly. "I don't hate him, Molly. I really don't. I just strongly dislike the man. I have no respect for him. None at all."

"A shark…" Molly said thoughtfully. "Do you really see Mycroft Holmes as a shark?"

John nodded. "He's the biggest shark out there, until a bigger one comes along and eats him. Until that happens he's a very dangerous fish that will always swim alone."

"That's sad, perhaps true, but still very sad. You might think me foolish, John, but..." Molly could still remember quite clearly Mycroft's face from last night. Raw with intense human emotion before he walked away. "There never seems to be enough happy endings out there for people. If Sherlock wasn't allowed to have one why can't his brother have it instead? Do both brothers have to have lives that will end in a tragedy? It just doesn't seem all that fair to be honest."

"When has life ever been fair?" John asked bitterly.

She thought of the small green button that rested in one of her pockets. She always carried it with her. No life wasn't fair. If it was her brother would still be alive.

Molly picked up her wine glass and noticed that there was not much left in it.

"Oh, well, "Molly said with a shrug. Impulsively giving John a toast. "No matter how horribly unfair life can be, may you, John Watson find great happiness. For out of everyone I've ever met you deserve it."

She elevated her near empty glass and John lifted his own glass looking very touched at her honest words.

"To Molly Hooper, may you too find great happiness because if anyone deserves it, trust me, it would be you."

Together they clicked their glasses before quickly drinking the last of their wine. She wistfully wondered if the fates were listening.

Molly doubted that she would ever find the happiness that she'd sometimes selfishly wish for herself. She probably would never get that happy ending, for those seemed to be meant for other people. Sadly, it didn't seem to be for her. Though she was hopeful yet she sometimes felt that she was living in a Star Trek show and she was wearing the famous red shirt. The one that always had the person killed off in act one.

And if that was her destiny to never have a happy ending, then so be it as long as John ended up with one…For someone needed to have that and if it was never going to be her then it should be given to her and Sherlock's friend John Watson…

After all the pain and heartache they put him through he really did deserved it…

~*~End of Part 3~*~


	4. Chapter 4

~*~ Part 4~*~

The sight of a friendly face in the great wilderness of London is a pleasant thing indeed to a lonely man.

-A Study in Scarlet by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

* * *

Molly sighed as she finished with the last body on her schedule. She couldn't help but think Sherlock would have liked looking at the body of Mr. Gillsen. He had some very interesting bed sores on his elderly body. She sadly shook her head as she quickly filed her paperwork to ready herself for the end of her work day.

She heard the sound of heels clicking from the hallway leading to the doors of the morgue. They were moving at a slow and steady rhythm. Molly turned to face the door to see who would enter. What she witnessed entering was a beautiful woman with dark flowing her, wearing an expensive black business suit with a solid white silk blouse. She wore dangerously tall high heels. Her fingers were upon her black phone, texting with lighting speed. She didn't bother to look up from the phone as she spoke, "You are wanted. Come with me please."

Well, at least she said 'please'.

Molly studied her, "No thank you. I'm Molly Hooper, by the way."

The beautifully cool woman lifted her eyes from her phone before she stated with certainty. "I know exactly who you are."

Molly smiled, rocking lightly on her heels. She had a strange feeling that she knew exactly who she worked for, and if she was wrong…well…she'd be wrong. "And yet, I don't know your name and I'm just suppose to mindlessly go with you…Did you know that when I was eight years old a man asked me to get into his car for he needed help with finding his puppy…Seeing you know exactly who I am I'm guessing you don't want to know the rest of the story. So anyway, my response to your oh, so nice, request is a big 'NO'."

Molly turned away, moving to go through the other set of doors that would take Molly down a corridor leading to her locker and all that much closer to calling it a day.

The woman's face looked stunned and bewildered as if this was a situation she'd never encountered before.

In her lab coat pocket her phone rang. Taking it out of her pocket she glanced at it to see it was a blocked number. She turned her phone off deciding that whoever had called could leave a message in her voice mail. She had learned never to trust block numbers.

"Perhaps, you should answer your phone, Doctor Hooper." The woman stated as she moved gracefully behind Molly.

"Perhaps, I'd rather know your name instead of answering my phone." Molly told her in a completely cheeky manner.

The woman tilted her head. "Name's Anthea."

"Nice to meet you. I like your shoes. Sadly, I can't wear high heels; I'm a bit clumsy on them. I tired wearing them once to a wedding no less…It was disastrous. Never fun to fall into the wedding cake. I still have nightmares about it."

Anthea looked down at her phone as if reading something very important. "Doctor Hooper, my boss, Mr. Holmes would like to speak with you…Please."

Molly stopped and gave the woman a certain look. She wished she could raise a classy eyebrow like she'd seen some of her favorite actors do on the telly.

"And what did he break his legs? This is a hospital after all, I'm sure no one would mind if he were to borrow a wheelchair. Let my guess, he plans to break into my flat again! Anyway, I honestly think we said all that needed to be said." Molly told Anthea.

There was, however, a small part that made her wonder if she should apologize to Mr. Holmes even if she had spoken the truth.

Anthea gave a soft smile as if she admired her spunk. "Actually, he knows your work is done for the day and you are about to go home. He'd like to give you a ride."

"I'd like to sleep in tomorrow but seeing I have to take my cat in to see the vet for a checkup bright and early in the morning and I fear I might get maimed getting him into his carrier…I'm not going to get what I want so why should he?" Molly asked, honestly wanting to know.

Anthea's fingers seemed to fly on her phone as Molly had talked. The beautiful woman looked up and looked thoughtful before responding, "Good question. I think you have surprised my boss. He's not often surprised by anything."

"That sounds boring."

"The life he leads is everything except for that." From the mysterious tone in which she spoke told Molly that she believed with all her heart that she spoke the absolute truth.

"Will you please thank, Mr. Holmes for me but I'll find my own way home and I don't need a ride." Molly informed her in het kindest way she knew how.

Anthea's big smile made her look positively wicked. "You can tell him yourself, Doctor Hooper. Mr. Holmes says he needs to tell you something important about his brother."

"Oh! Goodness, why didn't you say so! Um, of course, I'll meet with him right away."

Molly threw her lab coat into her locker, having before taken out anything of importance from its pockets. She grabbed her purse and jacket.

"So, you will accept the ride home now, Doctor Hooper?"

Molly paused for a moment, "I guess that would be lovely, thank you."

Anthea's fingers danced upon her phone. "So if you will follow me?"

Molly did just that following a few steps behind her. She lightly bit her lip, feeling worry over what that 'something important' about Sherlock could be.

Anthea slowed so they would walk together side by side. "Tell me, Doctor Hooper, did you get into that vehicle when you were eight?"

Molly blinked at her in surprise before giving her a small smile. "My big brother, Danny, stopped me. Informed me that if an adult needed help that they wouldn't ask a kid but another adult. My argument was 'but puppy…' Still, he wouldn't let me."

"He sounds like a good big brother." Anthea said for a moment she sounded almost wistful.

"Yeah, he was. " Molly told her softly. For a second she was tempted to slide her hand into her pocket to rub at the small green button.

"Oh. Was. Sorry." Anthea replied just as softly before admitting, "I had a brother once. I had to kill him."

Molly's steps faltered in surprise. "Oh, I'm not real sure how to respond to that."

Anthea shrugged, "I never liked him much anyway. One night he tried to play 'murder your sibling' Cain and Able style and he lost."

"Well…I'm glad he didn't win."

"Oh, me too, Doctor Hooper. I would have hated it if he had won the last game we ever played together."

"Anthea, you can call me, Molly."

Anthea smiled, "In that case my name isn't really Anthea, Molly.

They were now by an elegant and obviously expensive black car.

"What is your name then?" Molly asked curiously.

Anthea leaned in close to her so Molly could hear her whisper, "That, my dear Molly needs to remain a mystery."

She opened the door and waved her hand indicating to go on into the backseat of the car.

Molly chuckled, "My goodness, I like you."

"Do get in the car, Doctor Hooper." Hearing Mr. Holmes' voice she leaned in to see him. She gave him a weak smile and a small finger wave. His stare seemed intense as she carefully climbed in beside him.

Anthea closed the door behind her and Molly watched her sashay away, her fingers once more dancing wildly upon her black phone.

"Well, hello. Isn't Anthea joining us?" Molly couldn't help but ask.

"No," Mr. Holmes stated with a slight edge. "She has another car and very important things to do."

"Oh, I'm sure she does working for you." Molly found herself stating with the same equal edge. Annoyance running through her. "Tell me, does she pick up your dry cleaning without so much as a 'thank you' from you?"

Mr. Holmes blinked at her in surprise, sitting up straighter than before. Molly felt the car slowly start moving. "Wha—"

"You don't seem the type of man to go get your own dry cleaning or do your own dishes. You are also very rude. Twice now, I've said 'hello' and received no 'hello' in return or even the classic 'how are you' instead you break into my flat like a ruthless thug. Perhaps to show me that you simply could like the control freak I've always suspected you of being. Also, you send someone else to inform me that you want to 'talk'. Again on your time and the place of your choosing. Your mum should be ashamed of herself for raising two sons with absolutely no manners whatsoever!"

Mr. Holmes looked away to gaze out the window.

Molly crossed her arms. Waiting. Suspecting any second now that Mr. Holmes would order the car to stop and throw her out or to tell the driver to speed up and then throw her out of the car. All she was certain of was the fact that he surely would kick her out of the vehicle. To be honest, she wasn't all that certain she wanted to be in the car with him anyway.

After what seemed like hours she finally heard him say in a soft voice, "Hello, how are you doing today?"

This time it was Molly's turn to blink at him in total shock before answering…"Well, I woke up breathing, so I'm doing a lot better than some of the other people I've seen today." She chuckled over her little joke before saying, "How are you?"

"I'm breathing." Mr. Holmes stated giving her aside look before quickly looking away.

Molly slowly uncrossed her arms to set her hands on her lap.

"Good." She told him slowly, looking out her own window.

"Is it?" He asked her.

"Of course, you might be a rude control freak but it doesn't mean I would want you to stop breathing, Mr. Holmes."

"You can call me, Mycroft, Doctor Hooper." Mycroft said carefully.

"Please call me, Molly." She told him unsure why she was suddenly feeling shy.

"Right, thank you…Molly." He said her name as if testing out her name.

"You are welcome…Mycroft." She too was testing out his name, in the same manner as he had with hers. "So…I was told you wanted to tell me something about Sherlock." Molly knew she couldn't keep the curiosity out of her voice not that she even tried all that hard.

"Hmm…Yes, well the reports I've received show that he's fine. He's being a bit reckless but then that's my lovely brother for you. At least he seems to be totally drug free and extremely determined on destroying everyone in Moriarty's network."

"Oh…Is that all you had to tell me?" Molly asked, not really understanding why Mycroft would go to the trouble to tell her that for part of her already knew all that. The man was a total idiot if he thought she was stupid.

Mycroft was silent for a while before he softly stated. "As much as it pains me to admit you were right about my brother. I am very envious about the loyalty he receives from those around him and he gets it without even trying."

"Should I…" Molly found herself asking just as softly, "Should I apologize?"

"For being honest? For stating the truth? No…Molly. Honesty and truthfulness should never be apologized for. Especially in this day and age."

"So…Why have you gone to the trouble of telling me this?" Molly asked, desperate to understand. She was beginning to see that Mycroft Holmes just might really be a man of mystery. He turned his head to study her with an odd intensity as if was reading a new and interesting book.

"After much thought, I have decided to do an experiment. Normally, my dear brother is the one to do all the experiments…However, sometimes I do have to get my hands dirty so to speak."

For a moment she thought she heard music warning her that she was about to be eaten by a shark…Or maybe the music was warning her of all those stories she heard of as a child the ones that always ended with, 'and she was never heard from again'…

"Why do I have this weird feeling that this experiment of yours involves me, some how?"

Mycroft smirked at her. "Good, perhaps you are not a village idiot after all."

Molly rolled her eyes. "Are you going to share or should I simply throw myself out of your moving vehicle?"

Mycroft gave her a startled look. "You continue to surprise me, Molly. If you throw yourself out of my car, I find that I will be most displeased."

"Trust me, so would I for it would have to hurt." Molly told him before laughing softly. "So, seeing this experiment involves me somehow, what do you wish to try?"

The smile Mycroft gave to her made her think of a shark. Molly silently blamed John for making her think of him as a deadly fish.

"After much thought, I've decided that _you_, Molly Hooper are going to be _my friend_…"

~*~End of Part 4~*~


	5. Chapter 5

A big thank you to Empire of Fiction, Cornishrexmomma, kris for the lovely review. I do hope you and the other readers out there continue to enjoy...Have a fantastic day~ Mental hug, Moonunit :-)

~*~ Part 5~*~

'…I must confess that I am out of my depths,' said I.

~The Stockbroker's Clerk by Arthur Conan Doyle

* * *

To say that Molly was surprised by what Mycroft had said is a complete understatement. It took her a moment to realize that her jaw was slack, and her mouth was open. It also took a whole second to recall how to shut it. She thought about what he had said for what seemed like an eternity.

"You and me? _Friends_?" Molly had no doubt that she sounded as stunned as she felt when she finally spoke.

"Yes." Mycroft stated slowly with a tight lipped resignation upon his face before repeating what she had said, except without any question only a certainty. "You and me, friends."

"Are you sure?" Molly asked just as slowly getting over her surprise. "I hear you are a very busy man…"

"So? Busy men get friends all the time." Mycroft stated with a little uncertainty. As if this 'busy men get friends all the time' just might be a misplaced myth.

"Maybe they do, I'm just not sure _you_ do…at least I didn't think you were the type to even _try_ the whole friendship thing."

Mycroft sighed before admitting, "I'm really not. I believe I made myself clear on that point the last time we met. Yet…As you have stated, my dear brother has _'friends'_. You, John, and Mrs. Hudson are extremely loyal to him. You, yourself are so loyal that it borders upon stupidity were as John's loyalty—"

"Why don't you ask John to be your friend seeing my loyalty is stupid?" Molly cut in feeling insulted.

"Please, do listen, Molly, I didn't say your loyalty was stupid. I said it borders on it. And as for asking John for his friendship…He has decided long ago whose side he'd be on and that side is wherever Sherlock is. Until such a time my brother's fake death is revealed Dr. Watson will always blame me for his supposed suicide. For I'm alive and Sherlock is not. He'd much rather it be me dead and buried. Not Sherlock…My brother does not yet realize the massive pain he left behind or just how much he betrayed their friendship."

"He might never realize that or the damage he did to their trust." Molly stated softly.

"Yes." Mycroft agreed in a low soft tone. "But then, I'm not surprised he's always been the stupid one."

"Well, you haven't proven to me that you are the smart one."

"_Yet_! I haven't proven myself to you,_ yet_. Trust me; you will come to realize that in time that I am much smarter than Sherlock."

"Mycroft…I'm…well…um…touched that you have picked me to become your friend, but true friendships just happen…naturally."

"No. I don't trust things that are 'natural' at all. It's like stating things can happen quite randomly, and the universe is seldom so lazy."

"Do you realize just what friendship means? Really? The two us being friends would mean we would both spend a lot of time together." Molly said skeptically.

"Yes and I'm not looking forward to this whole friendship business. Once as children, Sherlock purposely gave me lice…I fear this experience will be much like that one."

"Gee, Mycroft, those words alone makes me want go out to buy us matching friendship bracelets!" Molly stated sarcastically.

Mycroft gave her a smirk. "Let's hold off on the matching bracelets, shall we? This experiment with you should be very interesting. Part of me is looking forward to it, actually. At least it should be fun at times."

Molly rolled her eyes. "Fun!? Alright, seeing that we just might become friends; what do you do for fun?"

"The work I do is fun. Very exciting at times. Sometimes it keeps me on my toes and gives me a real adrenaline rush. So, I would have to say my work is the most fun I've ever had."

"That…That actually sounds really…um…okay, I have to be honest, that sounds really pathetic and very sad." Molly ended up telling him, hoping she didn't hurt his feelings. "I enjoy and love my work; too…I'm just not sure I would call it fun…Well…Actually…Sometimes we get these really interesting bodies in. I remember one time we got this eighty-three year old man who died with a hard on it was still standing proud hours later. Mike and I had quite a giggle over that one!"

"I don't see the amusement in that." Mycroft told her dryly.

Molly smiled, "Sherlock has told me countless times that I have a horrid sense of humor. Okay, how about this one…Once I worked on a brain with a tumor that was in the shape of a four leaf clover."

"Okay, that is actually an amusing story, but Molly I need to warn you …_I will never_ share stories about what I do…"

Molly studied Mycroft long and hard before she shrugged, having to be honest, "That's okay, I don't mind…I fear your stories would end up being much too boring anyway…Um…I mean, I'm sure your stories are…" She tried to think of something to say quickly in hopes he wouldn't feel insulted. Though it was probably much too late. Wait, didn't John tell her…"Classified?"

Thank God for the word 'classified'…For sometimes that word actually meant, we want the public to believe it's exciting information that we can't share so do be envious when in reality the information is really a fantastic sleep aid.

The man looked positively speechless. Emotion raced across his face before he finally spoke. "Boring?! You actually believe if I told you about my day it would bore you!?"

"I took a pain pill earlier! I meant to say classified, really I did!" Molly lied. "I'm sad to learn you will never share all those…Highly classified moments of your…interesting life. I'm disappointed really. If only that dentist I went out with once had the same philosophy as you…"

"I can make and create governments…I have stopped wars and even started a few of them and you actually think that's _boring_?" He still seemed to be in a total state of shock, there was a strong chance that she had shattered his brain.

"I said classified! It's not as bad as the word boring! And okay, from the things Sherlock, John and Greg have said about your career choice it does sound a bit…boring. Mostly, because I don't care all that much about politics. What you do, I'm sure isn't all that bad…I'm just happy to know that I won't hear about it while we have dinner. It's completely okay that you are not your brother. Now, _he_ has a very exciting and adventurous life."

"My brother is a former drug addict who could awaken that nasty beast within him at any moment. He solves mysteries and crimes not to help people or bring forth justice but so he can experience an even stronger high than what could ever come from a needle. He even knows and accepts this fact. Which is why he loathes it whenever someone calls him a hero! That Molly is my brother's _exciting_ life in a nutshell!" Mycroft informed her heatedly.

Molly simply shrugged, "All I'm saying is that it's okay that you will never talk about your work. I understand and I'm very thankful for it. So what if from where I'm sitting it looks like Sherlock leads a more exciting life. Nothing is wrong with that! Also, look at you! Here you are telling me that your day isn't at all boring, yet you look like a fancy butler! England's favorite butler…"

Now Mycroft looked seriously offended. "I am in no way a butler!"

"Well, if the Queen rings a bell do you suddenly show up with a tray? Because I can so picture you doing that."

Molly tried her hardest not to succumb to laughter. The look on Mycroft's face was absolutely priceless. She quickly looked out the window to see the familiar sights. The car was traveling through a well known area…The car was leading her home.

When Molly looked back at Mycroft, she finally couldn't help it, she began to laugh.

"I'm teasing you, Mycroft, friends tease each other. No malice just light hearted fun."

"And how do I go about teasing you?" Mycroft asked stiffly, still highly offended about being called a butler.

"If you are as smart as you say you are. I have faith that you will figure it out but be careful. Don't be cruel…just be light hearted. Don't be a bully…I know this will be a big challenge for you but you can do it." Molly told him, trying to be kind hoping that he could indeed enjoy some light hearted teasing. All she knew for certain that it was great fun in seeing the supposedly indifferent very cold man not be at all aloof in any way.

"Right…Do you really think my outfit makes me look like a butler?" Mycroft asked looking down at his expensive beautiful dark blue three piece suit almost self consciously.

Molly gifted him a small smile. "Not really, but there are moments. The rest of the time you look like a serious dangerous lawyer about to eat someone for breakfast."

Mycroft looked over at her. Eyes suddenly soft for a moment, "I thought about becoming a lawyer once. When I was a child, of course. It was around the same time my brother thought being a pirate would be the perfect career path for himself."

Oddly enough Molly was charmed at the thought of Sherlock as a pirate and Mycroft as a lawyer.

"I'm not surprised. I'm certain you would have been very famous at it." Molly stated quietly.

"I'm much better at being the British government, Molly. That is what I've made myself to be and I do enjoy it. I don't regret the sacrifices or some of the other hard decisions I've made. Also, unlike my brother I'm never bored."

"Well, I can't promise not to be boring but I will try not to be."

"Trust me; you are not at all boring, Molly Hooper."

She studied him before asking, "So, Mycroft Holmes when is your next day off?"

Molly really enjoyed placing that surprised expression upon his face. That she had the power to throw him off guard gave her a special thrill and to be completely honest his surprise made her see him as a human being…

"I never take a day off." Mycroft informed her coldly.

"That could one day lead to a massive and fatal heart attack…I can see why you don't have friends…" Molly said sadly. "To have friends, Mycroft, one first must make time for them."

She looked at the side window in time to see the vehicle was now pulled up in front of her flat's building.

"If you are serious about me being your friend…" Molly continued, "Be at my flat around noon tomorrow. Prepare yourself to be there for a few hours. Bring a pizza; no pepperoni for it gives me serious heart burn…Anything else on the pizza will be fine."

"I don't deliver pizza and I am a very busy man!" Mycroft cut in almost angrily. Molly knew instinctively it was because she was taking away his control of the situation. Reminding her again that this man loved to be in control at all times perhaps the only thing he has ever truly loved. Control.

"I don't have to be your friend, Mycroft." Molly softly reminded him. "You seem to be an interesting man, bit dull sure but I am giving you a chance to prove me wrong on that. Seeing that you are a man who seems to like a challenge, perhaps you will take it up."

She opened the car door and slid out before leaning down to look at him.

"I don't mind being part of your experiment. However, friendship like most things in life are a two way street. So, be at my flat tomorrow or this experiment of yours will never get off the ground. I may be a happy puppet on your brother's string but I'm not going to be on your string, Mycroft Holmes and do not break into my flat, knock on my door instead. Also, I really do like that lovely suit you are wearing. It's really quite lovely but do _try_ to show up not looking like a butler! Oh and thanks for the ride!"

Molly gave him a cheeky happy smile before shutting the door. She tried not to skip as she moved towards her buildings' door. Molly couldn't help but wonder if he would indeed accept her challenge.

If he didn't life would go on…

And if he did accept…

She wondered why she was so willing to be Mycroft Holmes one and only friend…

Was it because she understood loneliness all too well and she could recognize it in others? Maybe. Or perhaps because Mycroft was Sherlock's brother…Who knows really…

All she knew for certain was that God or any other powerful beings better help her out for she knew without a doubt that she'd need all the help she could get…

~*~End of Part 5~*~


	6. Chapter 6

I wish to give a lovely thank you to the beautiful Cornishrexmomma for the wonderful review…I do hope everyone continues to enjoy. Please remember I never promised that this story would be any good but I'm having so much fun writing it!

~*~ Part 6~*~

'_I came to find a friend_.'

~The Man with the Twisted Lip by Arthur Conan Doyle

* * *

Molly was watching the steady raindrops slide gently down her window. Outside it was not a big or even fierce storm. Simply a nice rain. She closed her eyes to carefully listen to the rain. Gentle yet not quite soft either. Nature's sweet wondrous song.

She has always loved the sound. Oddly, enough it always seemed to relax her and today she needed that desperately. Molly wasn't even sure _why_ she was so nervous or anxious…

She wasn't even sure Mycroft would even show up. He must have better things to do and she had to wonder what the hell he was thinking or more importantly, what the hell_ she_ was thinking?_ Her_, Molly Hooper, the one and only friend to Mycroft Holmes? That in itself sounded odd, did it not?

The unavoidable reality was so simple really. It would never work out. Surely, Mycroft realized that they were both much too different to make a lasting friendship.

Perhaps he was indeed a smart man and was realizing that he was so very alone in the world. Maybe part of the experiment was to see what it was like not to be alone anymore. To have a friend who he would could count on. To have a friend who he could trust and have a form of honest loyalty that seemed to be in short supply in this sometimes dark and crazy world.

Yes, maybe he was curious about what it would be like to have a loyal and steadfast friend. He had to have noticed how having such a friend had helped his brother in so many ways.

Sadly, Mycroft had to know what happened to that poor curious cat…Oh, goodness, what if _she_ was that now dead cat and not him.

Maybe Mycroft wouldn't show up today and the so called experiment of his would be over and done with.

She still wasn't sure what the hell she was thinking but she would do her best to be his friend. She'd accept the challenge!

What she really didn't understand…The true mystery of it all, was why she changed her shirt about five times. It was no way a date. For she wouldn't date a man like Mycroft Holmes. She knew this was simply two people hanging out together to see if they could be friends.

It meant nothing that she was fighting the urge to put on some lipstick on. For she didn't see Mycroft Holmes in that way. Honestly, so there was absolutely no need for lipstick. None at all. She never wore lipstick when she hung out with Greg or John and they were her dearest friends. So no need for lipstick…Really no need at all.

The decision to whether or not to put on lipstick was taken completely out of her hands with the sound of a knock at her door.

Molly took a deep breath before slowly releasing it. She walked to her front door and looked out her peek hole. She lightly bit her lip feeling like laughing. Not really because the sight before her was hilarious but because in some way it was a bit unexpected. Even though she had told him to bring a pizza and to try his best not to look like a butler…

He was wearing a beautiful grey trousers and a solid white dress shirt. His normal suit jacket, vest and tie were gone. He had even unbuttoned a couple of buttons at the neck and had his sleeves rolled up. She noticed that he didn't seem to be holding his umbrella at all and seeing that it was lightly raining outside this was probably his version of living dangerously.

All she knew for certain was that he looked…_different_. Almost normal._ Almost_ anyway…

He was not looking distant like he normally did. The pizza box he held might have helped give him the 'I'm completely human, no really, it's no joke, I am' look.

Today she would not be able to tease Mycroft about looking like a butler. In fact he looked really nice. She refused to go so far as handsome. Nope the word '_nice_' was good enough.

As if he knew for certain that she was peeking at him, he gave her a very long and pointed look before rolling his eyes.

Feeling giddy she looked away and tried to calm herself down. When she was quite certain she had achieved total serenity. Molly opened the door at a crack and stated with as much deadpanned as possible, "How much do I owe you?"

"Just let me in." Mycroft ordered.

Molly felt her eyes narrow harshly upon his face.

"Please." Mycroft quickly rectified. "May I come in?"

Molly gifted him a big happy smile. Opening the door wide as she gestured with her hands for him to enter.

She watched him enter and couldn't help but smell the wonderful aroma coming from the pizza box. Molly shut the door before asking, "What type of pizza did you get?"

"Pepperoni." Mycroft stated so very dryly setting it down upon her table before smirking at her, "I'm teasing of course."

He lifted the lid to reveal a pizza covered in veggies. Molly snorted, "Good job on teasing your new found friend."

"Yes, and I did so in a completely light-hearted manner, I'm sure." Mycroft seemed to grumble, frowning down at the pizza.

Molly smiled in despite of his tone, before asking, "Do you not like pizza?"

"It's…okay. Been a long time since I've had it…You see, Molly, I could have gotten you something so much better than pizza. You could have asked for _anything_! I could have easily had a number of London's finest chefs that are known worldwide from any of the countless expensive restaurants make you something grand! Instead you…you force me to bring me a pizza."

As Mycroft spoke, Molly had taken out two plates from her cabinet that held dishes neatly stacked. She handed him a plate as she picked out her very own slice.

"Even if I had known that, I'd still go for the pizza. So would you like a beer or a soda with your meal?" Molly asked politely and somewhat joyfully.

After much considerable thought Mycroft sighed, "Whatever you are having will be fine."

She simply had to chuckle, "Gee, don't you sound enthusiastic!"

"Actually, this_** is**_ my enthusiastic tone, just wait until you hear my joyful one." He was clearly lying for his tone was completely flat.

She grabbed two cold beers and handed him one. His expression was full of disgust yet he accepted the bottle and opened it.

"Let me guess, you are afraid that one bottle will do you in? Can't handle alcohol at all, hmm?" Molly asked before sitting down and taking a big bite of a very delicious pizza. She even moaned a little in happiness and pure pleasure as her taste buds went into complete satisfaction mode.

His eyes studied her intensely. She could have sworn she saw something flicker behind those eyes of his. Some random thought that looked as if it had taken him completely by surprise before it disappeared all together. She wondered what that thought had been. Was he now realizing what a misguided experiment their friendship would be?

He took a deep drink before answering her. "No, I can hold my liquor consumption quite well. My delightful brother however…Even with trusted charts and figures, he doesn't do well at all."

Molly laughed. It looked as if becoming friends with Mycroft would have a great benefit to where she would learn all kinds of new and charming things about Sherlock. From his yearning to one day be a pirate to knowing that liquor was not his dearest friend.

Yet, she was also learning so much about Mycroft. Sure he might seem cold and guarded but he did care greatly about his brother. She was learning that no matter how hard he tried his eyes would always give him away…Especially when he spoke about Sherlock. There was a small flicker of warmth, sometimes very small, but it was still there.

Perhaps Mycroft was already missing his brother. He wasn't able to call or stop by to be annoyed by his little brother while Sherlock was away. If indeed Mycroft was correct in the fact his brother would be gone for two years…That would mean Mycroft would be totally for the next _two_ years. He'd not have a single friend.

Sherlock was the closest thing to a friend Mycroft has. _Ever_ had really. They were forever connected by blood. A dysfunctional family and in their own weird fashion friends as well. However both brothers would rather die a violent death then to ever admit it.

John had told Molly that their banter at times was cold, a tad heartless yet also quite playful and funny at times. John had also told her that they seemed to take great delight in testing each other's homicidal tendencies.

Seriously, who will snap and lunge for the other's neck first? John had some quid down on Sherlock. Whereas Greg had placed his bet on Mycroft saying _'Anyone who knows Sherlock is constantly on that murderous_ _edge_.'

John had also said the brothers would sit and banter for hours and even play silly board games.

Now Sherlock was gone. Leaving his brother completely and totally alone. There would not be any phone calls or any text messages, no more playful or even cold banter over at Baker Street.

Who else did Mycroft Holmes have to talk to about his brother…or about anything really?

He was a man truly separated from others. Purposely and willingly yes but being completely detached and isolated could in no way be a good thing. No one should be completely alone, _no one_ not even Mycroft Holmes.

Molly's smile had faded as she studied him. She understood loneliness and it's raw existence all too well. She also knew he was a very prideful man. She doubted he'd ever admit to being lonely or even how much he missed his brother. Sadly, there might be a day coming when he could no longer fool himself. Hopefully he would realize it without it involving a tragic event.

As much as it would pain him to admit, he did need a friend. At least someone to be there until Sherlock returned and when he did…

Perhaps, just perhaps, Mycroft wouldn't need her anymore. The friendship experiment to keep loneness at bay, to know what true loyalty could be and to know its strength would come to an end.

Molly was willing to be there as a friend if that was what he needed. For now anyway…

Still…

When Sherlock returned and he would indeed return, she seriously wondered if they would remain friends. There was a strong chance that the answer was 'no'. _Why would Mycroft need her once his brother was back?_

For some reason that thought filled her heart with sharp-filled agony. She wasn't even sure why that thought hurt her hurt so much.

Molly simply could not ignore Mycroft's loneliness, no matter how he might hurt her in a couple of years' time. If she was able too she would help him, she would.

"So…" Mycroft cut into her thoughts, his face was carefully blank. "I have some hours to spare and we are now 'hanging out' as friends tend to do…"

"Yes…" Molly confirmed. "We are now 'hanging out' as good friends do. Your powers of observation are simply remarkable."

A corner of Mycroft's lips lifted. There was absolutely no coldness in his eyes. "My powers of observation are indeed remarkable, you know, in fact they are much better than my brother's. I always win when we play that game."

Molly smiled, not really sure how to respond to that. She could clearly see he honestly believed what he was saying. She however had a hard time believing that. Finally she stated, "That's nice."

His eyes narrowed on her suspiciously as if wondering whether she was mocking him or even teasing him…

"No…Really…That's nice. Later, perhaps you can show off that wacky Holmes skill that you have. I swear to be an absolutely delighted audience…As long as you observe other people and not me for I fear what my hand might do to your smooth cheek."

Mycroft laughed. An actual genuine real laugh. It was low and deep sounding and it sounded veraciously beautiful in its complete honesty. The sound may have also been a little rusty as if he had not laughed in a long while.

"Alright! Deal." Mycroft told her before asking, "So other than 'hanging out' what else are we going to do?"

"Well…We start by agreeing to meet up every Friday for fish and chips because that's what besties do…" Molly teased, feeling happy as she watched him roll his eyes.

Molly continued, "We could watch DVD's on my telly for I have a lovely collection…or and what I'm really hoping for…You see, I also have a collection of delightful board games in my closet and to be perfectly honest I'd absolutely love to kick your arse playing one of them."

A sparkle of great delight entered his eyes before he stated dryly and very calmly, "I do hope you don't cry like a little girl when I kick yours…"

With that he took a big bite from his slice of pizza and Molly couldn't help but laugh.

Well, it looked like there was no doubt about it, being Mycroft Holmes' friend was going to be very interesting indeed.

~*~END OF PART 6~*~


	7. Chapter 7

A lovely thank you to the beautiful Cornishrexmomma, your encouragement means so much to me. You really are awesome. And thank you so much kaz1370 for the review, wow, you are wonderful as well. Thanks for the reviews and kind words, I'm not sure I deserve it but I do hope everyone continues to enjoy…This part might be short but the next part will have more Molly and Mycroft

~*~ Part 7~*~

Sherlock Holmes telling John Watson…

'…_We have shared the same room for some years, and it would be amusing if we ended by sharing the same cell.'_

'Charles Augustus Milverton by Arthur Conan Doyle

* * *

Molly met Greg and John at a familiar and well known pub. Being the absolute gentlemen that they both were they let her buy the first round of drinks.

Greg began with talks of the past cases he had worked on especially those involving Sherlock. Mostly the cases before John had entered the great consulting detective's life.

Molly watched John as Greg talked and she could tell right away that John seriously missed the grand adventures he once had with his best friend. He'd always miss Sherlock, no doubt about that, but those wonderful adventures had given John what he had so desperately needed at the time. Still needed, sadly. Sherlock had given his blogger a sense of purpose. Perhaps at first he had even given him a reason to get up in the morning…

When he had returned from Afghanistan John had been a wounded soldier told he'd never fight again. They really didn't need him anymore. No more battlefields, no reason to feel alive again. Sherlock had proven all those things to be a lie.

As they sipped on their pints of beer, after Greg had shared about how an awful man had faked his death and then had attempted to frame the grown son of a woman who had broken up with him and how Sherlock had actually smoked the guy out of hiding…

John felt the need to share that he had been having weird dreams. Many times it had him still a soldier and fighting an intense battle to have Sherlock suddenly tap him on the shoulder and let him know that the game wasn't really over. The most resent one had John sharing a jail cell with Sherlock smiling as if it was Christmas, rubbing his hands together and cheerfully asking John if he wanted to try what they had attempted to do again tomorrow…

John wasn't sure_ what_ they had done or _why_ they had been put in a cell but all John knew was when he woke up from the dream he was certain that the fault had surly been Sherlock's.

Greg had laughed hard and Molly had smiled, completely charmed and then it was her turn. She knew it was none of their business but she also felt there was no reason to conceal her new found friendship with Mycroft. It was in no way a shameful secret to be hidden away.

Plus, it would be nice to have her good friends who has actually met the man know about their friendship. This way she could come to them at times for advise if necessary and more importantly she could rant about him like a crazy woman. Molly had no reason to rant about the man today but she had an odd feeling that she needed to be prepared.

She would in no way gossip about the man or even say hateful things about him. Molly knew how to be a good friend. She even knew what to talk about and what to keep to herself.

John had once even needed to talk about Sherlock. He'd write blogs so he'd have an out lit when dealing with and living with Sherlock Holmes so John had ended up sharing his life about Sherlock with the whole world.

To be honest, Molly had no desire to 'share' with the world about being friends with Mycroft Holmes. In fact, she had a strong feeling that he'd not be very pleased at all if she even attempted to blog about him. Mycroft was such a control freak that he'd probably find a way to have her black listed from the internet.

She wasn't really sure if he was that powerful but why should she test that theory?

The men eyed her in complete shock as she informed them how Mycroft had chosen her to experiment on. Which okay, perhaps she shouldn't have used the word 'experiment' if how enormous their eyes got were any indication.

"You're crazy!" John blurted out.

"I've heard it takes only two signatures to get someone into a mental hospital…And maybe a judge as well…" Greg stated thoughtfully. As if there was a strong possibility that he'd actually need to sign such papers and maybe even call in some favors. It was also highly possible that he had those same thoughts before as he worked alongside with Sherlock.

"I'm not crazy nor do I need to go to a mental institution." Molly said as she shot both men an extremely annoyed look. Did these men not realize she knew where she could get some lobotomy instruments to use on them?

"Molly, you can't be friends with Mycroft Holmes! He's…He's…Mycroft Holmes…There is a reason that man has no friends, mostly because he's complete rubbish as a human being!" John said, clearly exasperated.

"John." Molly stated, desperately trying to keep calm. "You are being such a hypocrite."

"What?" John asked once more in shock…

"I've read all your blogs, remember?" She reminded him carefully. "Including a '_Study in Pink_'; where you admitted to having quite a few people warning you not to become friends with that so called_ freak_ Sherlock Holmes. For he didn't have any friends and there was a reason for that! Even his own brother tried to warn you off in his own unique mysterious way…Yet, never once bothering to listen to what others were saying you went with what your heart was telling you to do. You saw an amazing man who could use a friend. Mycroft Holmes may not be as amazing as his brother but he is still a man in need of a friend. A lonely man, really, who is actually willing to try the whole friendship thing, I can be that friend, John, as long as he wants me to be."

Molly seriously figured that in two years' time she would find out if Mycroft will have learned anything about the value of friendship. Though she knew that stubborn pride of his could easily get in the way.

Still when Sherlock returned he would no longer need her.

"I just don't want you to get hurt." John said his voice was filled with deep concern and he was now avoiding eye contact.

She leaned forward and kindly patted his hand. "If that happens, which I doubt, but if it does you can tell me you told me so, without any fear that I'll go off and slap you."

John gave her a weak smile looking her in the eye once more before patting her hand in return.

Greg cleared his throat before stating, "I'm here for you, Molly. You ever need to rant or talk to us about Mycroft…I'm here for you be it day or night."

"So am I Molly." John agreed softly, sharing a look with Greg.

"Though…" Greg continued his eyes sparkling with amusement, "Please, try not to call me between one to four a.m. Call John instead, I would hate for your virgin ears to hear such unpleasantness. It's okay when works calls me. They are used to my filthy potty mouth. But your sweet delicate ears really can't handle such vulgarly."

Molly laughed remembering the rare time that Greg had once caught her using highly inappropriate language. He had called her at two a.m. about a body she had worked on right before her shift had ended. He had sworn he hadn't realized what time it was and it was an accident calling her at home. Still he had teased her later that his poor innocent ears would never be the same again.

"Okay, but if I do ever call you that late…or is that early? I'll make my fresh blueberries pancakes you both like so much."

They both suddenly became still and then looked very, very hopeful. Much like Toby whenever she held a can and an opener then he would start meowing. Demanding that she hurry up and get on with it so he can enjoy a treat…and if it wasn't for him, he was going to give her a very special present later.

She could have been wrong but she thought she could detect a little drool on the corner of their mouths.

"I'm now really looking forward to your call." Greg stated as John quickly agreed.

Molly smirked as she sipped her pint of beer.

"Though Molly…" Greg continued, "Do be careful, please…If Mycroft hurts you in any way…any way what so ever…I seriously fear what might happen to me when I punch him hard in the face."

"You'll never be heard from again." John stated knowingly as if he had once experienced such a thing.

Greg nodded and tilted his own pint at him in complete accord. "Now, that's a very strong possibility. I've heard rumors that he keeps bodies in that beautiful garden of his…Bodies make great fertilizer."

So do banana peels and horse shit…Molly thought as she drowned the rest of her beer. She hoped that the bodies in Mycroft's garden were nothing more than vicious lies.

Molly smiled weakly. "Who's getting the next round for I know it's not me." She informed them.

She was happy when Greg declared he'd buy the next round and they all thankfully changed the subject.

For now a part of her was wondering if she would end up in Mycroft's garden…

Damn, perhaps she really should have let him win a game last night…

~*~END OF PART 7~*~


	8. Chapter 8

Again a lovely thank you to Cornishrexmomma, you are indeed lovely, I do hope I don't disappoint you. Thank you for the wonderful reviews, WhiffyBee, ImmunoMaster, reading them was such a beautiful surprise, thanks again.

Again, friendly reminder…_I promised a weird story, not a good one_…I am truly delighted if you find it good but if you don't take this story too seriously it should make you smile! Honest…

And now…

Molly and Mycroft goodness…Weird goodness, yes, but goodness nonetheless…

* * *

~*~PART 8~*~

'…_I am perfectly satisfied with your company if you will tolerate mine.'_

-The Hound of the Baskervilles by Arthur Conan Doyle

* * *

A few months had pasted and Molly felt that she and Mycroft had settled quite comfortably in their somewhat unique friendship. They both made the effort to spend time together whenever possible.

Molly had been absolutely delighted when Mycroft took her out for fish and chips almost every Friday.

He had once even taken her out to a few fancy expensive restaurants which was very nice, no doubt about that, yet she enjoyed it much more when he'd stop by her flat with some yummy takeout or even some pizza. Then they would both relax with a very fun and competitive game.

He was even teaching her how to play chess. Molly found herself seriously surprised with how patient Mycroft could be. He would shrug off her clumsy mistakes as if he had been expecting them. He'd give her a small encouraging smile when she'd surprise him. Mycroft would then roll his eyes whenever she intently called certain pieces 'the castle doodad' and 'the horsey thingamajig'.

She found Mycroft to be much more patient than his brother. At least, when it came to playing games. She still felt she needed therapy from the time Sherlock had attempted to show her how to play 'cluedo' correctly.

Those moments when Mycroft did bring her takeout and play games with her…

Molly never knew just how much her eyes sparkled with pleasure or how beautiful her smile was when ever those moments would happen. She found his company to actually be quite pleasurable. This had surprised her at first.

Right now they were taking a very pleasant walk in St. James's Park. Which was very elegantly beautiful park.

Mycroft held his unopened umbrella in one hand as they strolled leisurely along, side by side. Every now and then he'd show off the infamous Holmes skill of deduction.

He pointed out a widower, who was a father to three young children. Of course he'd then explain how he knew all this. At one point he deducted the two American tourists on their honeymoon. It wouldn't last a year for the new husband was eyeing up another woman. There was a Frenchman who worked as a waiter in a very popular restaurant and he was having an affair with a maid from a well known hotel.

When he asked her to give it a try she allowed herself to make extremely silly guesses. Guesses she knew that could in no possible way be right. She embellished greatly, not taking the art and science of deduction at all seriously. This would have greatly horrified Sherlock. Mycroft seemed to accept that he was at least winning and left it at that.

She felt her true deduction skills where more important with the dead bodies she worked with then the live ones. Yet it was still fun to try to keep up with Mycroft even if her made up tales where something more likely to be from all the telly she watched instead of reality.

For she highly doubted that the eighty something grandma out with her small twin grandsons was actually a double agent going out to do one more job before she officially retires…

Or that the man on the bench texting turned into a big scary werewolf upon the full moon. It was the man's long and extremely shaggy full beard that made her say this to Mycroft.

Mycroft simply stared long and hard at her as she tried her damnest to keep a straight face. After a long moment she finally failed and began to giggle.

"The existence of werewolves are supposed to be a highly classified secret." Mycroft stated, completely deadpan.

She stopped giggling and stared at him in stunned shock. It took a moment before he slowly smirked. Molly reached out to lightly hit his arm.

"You actually had me going there for a minute."

Mycroft chuckled. "The look on your face was priceless!"

"I'm sure it was. Here's another look to behold!" Molly childishly stuck her tongue out at him.

"Now that is a charming look, Molly, simply charming." Mycroft informed her, humor imbedded within his tone.

"It was either that or I flip you the bird." She turned her head and watched some children chase each other while screaming and laughing. Molly watched them almost wistfully for a long moment before continuing softly, "Seeing that they are children around I'd rather they didn't learn certain bad manners from me. They should learn from watching the telly like normal children do."

"What are you thinking about?" Mycroft asked curiously after a long moment of silence. He must have noticed her suddenly sad and perhaps wistful mood.

Molly shot him a look before watching the children once more. They seemed so full of life and joy. "Nothing of importance, Mycroft."

Comfortable silence flooded between them. She sighed heavily before admitting, "When I was younger I honestly thought I'd be married and have a couple of kids by now."

"You are still young and you don't have to be married to have children." Mycroft informed her as if she was an idiot and had no idea that was even possible. Which in reality she knew damn well that sperm didn't need a marriage license to work, thank you very much.

Molly laughed before she shrugged. "Actually I'm pretty old fashion in some ways, Mycroft; I simply prefer to be married if I'm going to have children. Tell me, are your parents married?"

"Of course," Mycroft said very dryly, "they are pretty old fashion as well. In fact, I was born exactly one year after they tied the knot."

Molly watched the young children until they faded out of sight with their grandmother. She then studied him thoughtfully before starting to slowly stroll beside him once more. She lightly bumped his arm.

"So…Mycroft do you have any children of your own hidden away somewhere…Like in a prestigious boarding school or in an expensive lab with lots of little colorful test tubes…"

A flash of horror crossed his face. "No! I have no children, hidden or even in plain sight…Actually, I will _never _have children."

Molly's eyes widened, "Oh, Mycroft! I'm so…so sorry. I know how sensitive you are and I'd have never have brought up such a painfully hard topic if I had known that your baby maker was broken."

"_WHAT?!_"

Molly did her best to give him a very innocent look before pointing down at his groin before silently mouthing, '_It's broken_.'

"NO! It's _not_ broken! Nothing is wrong with it!"

"Are you sure? Have you had it tested recently? As a friend, it's good to know these things." Molly stated good naturedly.

"_It's fine_! Trust me, everything down there is in perfect working order and how is being my friend is that information at all pertinent?"

"I did not say the information was pertinent I just said it was good to know as your friend for this way we can safely have this conversation without me fearing that later you'll be sobbing in the dark corner somewhere in a fetal position."

Mycroft shook his head slowly at her words. He was probably wondering what the hell he ever did to deserve her lovely friendship. Molly simply smiled at him. It may or may not have been a smile of a crazy woman.

Mycroft sighed, "Do you not realize that it's improper for a lady to tease a man about his—"

"Broken equipment?" She cut in, wondering what she had ever done to make Mycroft see her as a _lady_…

"_It's not broken!_ Stop saying that!"

Molly laughed holding up her hands in mock surrender. "Alright! I believe you. I will never again tease you in that area. For it's_ not_ broken! Heaven forbid if I have inadvertently created a serial killer simply because I dare to have an interesting conversation about your equipment!"

She then reached over and carefully let her hand rest upon his arm before she became serious enough to ask, "So, why does the great and powerful Mycroft Holmes say he will never have children? Do you not like them?"

Mycroft looked down at her hand before looking at her. He made no attempt to remove her hand.

"I find children to be rather dumb actually but then I find everyone around me to be total morons…You know what I mean." He stated quickly at her 'I really should slap you' look. "I guess my own children, however…"

Mycroft stopped his words with a deep sigh. His feet now motionless making her stop as well, she turned to focus completely on him. He was silent and thoughtful for a long moment before he decided to continue in a quiet tone, "One day, when I was a small boy my parents sat me down and informed me very happily that in the upcoming months I would become a big brother. For my age I was highly intelligent, a child genius in every way and my first and only question was_ 'why?'_ Out of all the words I knew, and I pretty much had the dictionary memorized, that was the only thing I said. Why? They really didn't need another child they had me! I was quite certain that I was good enough as their only child. I also felt they were old and really didn't need to be having sexual intercourse anyway. I still firmly believe that to be true to this very day."

He carefully laid his hand on top of hers. "They actually had the audacity to tell me that they were filled with so much love that they simply had to share it. Then they told me that they would _always_ love me. They would do anything for me and my future sibling…My mum and dad…They…were indeed good parents to Sherlock and I. Like all married couples they had their problems but they do love us both equally and they were willing to make sacrifices when necessary. We were both_ loved_ very much. Neither of us could have asked for better parents. We were blessed, really…Actually, they were _better than good_ parents."

Molly looked at the beauty around her trying to understand what he was saying yet she felt as if she was failing. So carefully she stated, "So, because your parents are not total ass wipes, you can't_ ever _have children?"

Mycroft gave a low almost sad sounding chuckle. "No. You see, I'm not wired to_ love_. Love is a truly stupid and weak sentiment that is in no way logical. Nor am I stupid enough to ever love. I feel it would only be right to love any child of mine. It would only be right. My parents showed me what good parents were. They loved me. They still do to this very day. They even accept me. They would still make sacrifices if necessarily. For any child of mine, I'd want him or her to grow up trusting in my love, Molly, as I trust in theirs. They should not have to worry about whether they would be sacrificed for what I'd deem as for the better good or for the good of England…And then there is the woman who would carry my child. I have never loved a woman…I've had sex, sure but love? Never. Perhaps I too am a little old fashion; for I feel if a woman is going to have any child of mine I should at least love her. Madly and deeply…But…Logically, I know I'm incapable of doing such a stupid thing. I should be able to honestly tell my own child that he or she were created out of love. That I love him or her…I know I should be able to, Molly but…"

His words finally faded, making Molly state softly, "You are not wired that way."

She felt incredibly sad for some unexplained reason.

"I should value her and my child above all else." Mycroft continued as if she hadn't spoken. "They both should be the most important thing in my life. I really should be willing to do _anything_ for them such as be a good husband and father. Yet, honestly I cannot picture myself doing such a thing for I know the right thing would be to love them both with all of my heart but ask anyone and they will tell you rightly so that I don't have such an item."

"You _do_ have a heart, Mycroft; you simply hide it quite well from others…" Molly told him with very wet eyes; not realizing how they sparkled like jewels, the only thing she knew was that she was speaking the truth.

"Perhaps, I have you fooled, Molly Hooper."

"Or you have everyone else fooled except for me, Mycroft Holmes. I see the real you whether you want me to or not and I know you are not as cold as you would like everyone to believe."

The sound of a child's delightful laughter seemed to carry in the gentle breeze. The sound made her heart twist painfully within her chest.

Mycroft gave a small shrug, looking away from her to breathe deeply before softly saying, "Perhaps you do see what I don't want you to see. Or maybe you just like to look for the best in people, no matter who they are. Which I believe to be more likely. Anyway, in my line of work it's best not to have a heart."

"I am sorry that you'll never allow yourself to be a father…" Molly said, keeping her voice low and honest without a trace of pity. "I'm sure you would have been…an interesting Dad. Perhaps even a good one."

"Doubtful." Mycroft told her, his voice low and soft.

Molly shrugged off his doubt as she leaned closer towards him. "Yesterday, I worked on the body of a young child. The father shook and beat him to death. Some fathers should never be fathers. Whereas some…should be."

"Just because I would _never_ beat a child to death does not make me a good father or even a good man." Mycroft informed her, his voice slightly hoarse.

"It doesn't mean you wouldn't be a good father either._ You already are a good man_. For a bad man wouldn't care whether he could love his own child or even if he could love this unknown faceless woman who helped give this fantasy child of yours life." Molly told him, before her tone changed into a stronger tone, no longer soft at all. "Though personally, I'm quite glad you have decided _**never**_ to have children."

Mycroft looked at her in complete surprise as she slowly smiled. Hopefully he would realize that she was about to tease him.

"Come on, Mycroft, you are the British government. A very powerful man. Any child of yours could end up ruling the entire world! Which is a very scary thought really…They could easily start up a world government…Scary…So scary I'm certain to have nightmares tonight and it will be all your fault!"

Mycroft smiled brightly in return before giving a mock shudder. "Or even worse, he or she could become an actor! Be on that blasted telly you like much."

Molly laughed. "They could play a part of a butler quite easily! Or…Or…Oh, gosh, they could even get an interesting role on 'Doctor Who'! The show will hopefully remain strong for decades so maybe…just maybe they could be the next 'Who'!"

"Oh, do stop it! Now that I have that truly horrid thought in my head, you now make me want to weep in a dark corner somewhere!"

"Seriously, Mycroft, you are much too sensitive for your own good!" She lightly teased with a weightless giggle.

Mycroft actually shared in her laughter and together they continued on with their leisurely stroll.

Leaving the sound of children's delightful laughter far behind them.

~*~END OF PART 8~*~


	9. Chapter 9

Again thank you Cornishrexmomma for the encouragement, you do rock…And WhiffyBee you are truly delightful, thank you for making me smile…You both fill my heart with joy

Hope you enjoy…as long as you do I promise to keep writing…

Honest…

And now for more weirdness…good weirdness but still weirdness!

* * *

~*~PART 9~*~

'…he cried, 'The game is afoot! Not a word! Into your clothes and come!'

~The Abbey Grange by Arthur Conan Doyle

* * *

Molly was slowly eating her lunch in the hospital's cafeteria. Next to her half-eaten sandwich and apple wedges was a yellow pad of paper along with her cheerfully neon pink writing pen. It even had a cute feather ball on the end of it that always made her smile. She was attempting to make an extremely important list except all that was on the page was doodles of butterflies and tiny flowers. She was now thinking about drawing a cute kitty to chase the butterflies…

So she started to draw the cute tiny cat which sadly ended up looking very pathetic. Seriously, the butterflies could simply turn around and beat it to death. Oddly enough they were much bigger than the little kitten.

Molly heard her name called and she quickly looked up. She gave the couple who called out her name a bright friendly smile. She rarely ever caught a lunch break around the same time John and Mary had their lunch. They might all work in the same building but their schedules didn't always match up. Also seeing that they worked in totally different parts of the hospital.

Molly was simply delighted to share her tiny table with the smiling happy couple. She was slowly getting to know Mary and she could see exactly why John liked her.

Mary was a beautiful and very sweet woman yet there was something almost dangerous at times about her. She hid it quite well but sometimes a flash of coldness would enter her eyes…

This made Molly think that Mary was trying a little too hard to be _nice_. Trying to be overly friendly and wanting desperately for people to believe that she would never harm them or a single living soul. Yet, she felt certain that if Mary was ever mugged like Molly had been; the mugger would have probably been on the ground quicker than a heartbeat. He would most likely be dead as she would walk away calmly with her purse and perhaps the mugger's wallet just for giggles.

Molly was also certain John felt that too. Perhaps it was what attracted him to her. He missed living on the edge. In the army, he lived constantly on that dangerous edge. Then with Sherlock…

With Mary, he might not be going on grand adventures with a gun like had with Sherlock but she probably made his heart race just as fast.

As they talked and ate their lunch, Molly continued to doodle lightly upon her writing pad.

Mary gave Molly a smile as she nodded towards the pad of paper. "That big gang of butterflies looks a bit…scary. They look much bigger than that…kitten?"

"Hmm…It wasn't intentional. It just seemed to happen that way." Molly informed her with a light shrug.

"Are those butterflies holding sharp…_knives_?" John asked in surprise.

"They are supposed to be their little insect arms but…yeah; they kind of do look like knives, don't they?" Molly stated almost sadly. "I'm not even supposed to be doodling. I'm supposed to be composing a very important list."

"Important?" John and Mary chimed in simultaneously. Making them seem like the perfect cute couple. It made her instantly imagine them married…

Molly sighed before she studied them thoughtfully. "Maybe I could use some advice."

So with that said, she shared what had happened to cause her now great dilemma and why she now needed an important list.

Though much of the story she told was heavily edited, of course, still she tried to keep to the main jest of the story as she remembered the events quite clearly…

~*~SH~*~SH~*~SH~*~

"London has a serial killer lurking about. He breaks into women's homes and uses a stun gun on them…He then does nasty, horrid things to them. I've worked on four bodies so far." Molly informed Mycroft as he ate the meal she had cooked as if he was a starving man not knowing when he'll ever see food again.

"And I care because?" Mycroft asked dryly once his mouth was free.

Molly shrugged not caring at all that he was being indifferent for she accepted him exactly the way he was. "I'm just making conversation, Mycroft; besties do that quite a lot actually."

"Is this from the same rule book that says we have to meet up every Friday for fish and chips?" Mycroft asked before eating some more off his plate.

"Yes! It also states in very small fine print how _you_ have to _always_ pay." Molly told him with a very cheeky smile. "Mostly because when _I_ attempt to buy…_you_ end up acting like a male chauvinistic prick that is having his candy stolen by a little girl."

"I _once_ let you buy me a pretty big brownie." Mycroft grumbled around his food as he suddenly studied his own plate as if it just might hold the secret of life.

"Which you ate two bites of and gave me the rest! All the time claiming how you are dieting!" Molly said with a roll of her eyes. Seriously, the man was worse than some of her women friends. Not that she had too many of those. Yet they always seemed to judge their own bodies so harshly.

"_I am dieting_! I have too! If I don't diet and exercise I'll blow up like a damn balloon! If I gain so much as an ounce when my brother returns he'll make my life a living hell…_A living hell, Molly_!"

"Oh like Sherlock won't find _something_ to make you _feel_ as if you're in hell. Sherlock's goal in life seems to be to find things that annoy you or make your life more interesting. Hell, he annoys everyone, Mycroft, not just you!" Molly told him before taking a small bite of her own food.

"I don't need a more interesting life; it's quite interesting all on its own.

Molly gave him a highly doubtful look. "You live and breathe British politics…"

"Right. You find politics boring." Mycroft stated with disgust. "You vote by whether the name _sounds_ good or not, as you told me with the first directly elected mayor of London back in 2000…'Livingstone just sounded so delightful, Mycroft, it's such a good sounding name! I just had to vote for him…' Honestly, Molly you know how to drive me crazy!"

"Well…Yes…Everything you said is quite true. I'm touched that you pay attention to me when I am talking to you. And yes, of course I find politics boring, just be glad I don't find _you_ boring just your job! For it's so dull…I honestly don't' know how you climb out of bed in the morning…"

"I get up with great happiness, actually. I do love what I do just as you love what you do and some people would find _what you do_ much odder then _what I do_."

Molly nodded thoughtfully, pointing her fork at him. "If everyone in the world were absolutely the same in thoughts and personality then this world would be very dull."

"Very true." Mycroft agreed before stating in an offhanded kind of way. "Today I found and caught a spy."

Molly calmly sat down her fork and looked at him in disbelief … "Did you just share some classified shit with me in an attempt to show off just how cool your job is?"

There was a long moment of silence. For a second he looked as if he had been caught cheating big time on his diet. He cleared his throat. "Well, not really. A small mention will be on the news tonight. However my name will never once be spoken."

"Much like how Harry Potter's enemy's name could never be spoken out loud…" Molly nodded in complete understanding before stating, "Unlike Lord Voldemort, at least you have a nose."

He gave her a half hearted glare before he took out his buzzing phone. He looked at the text before quickly texting something back. Now there was a flash of great coldness within his eyes and a slight cruel edge upon his lips.

Molly secretly hopped he wasn't taking a hit out on her. Perhaps she should have kept the nose comment to herself even if it was true. The man had a very obvious nose. One she was starting to find quite charming…It was a sexy nose with character…Okay; maybe she should seek professional help or something…

Also, if he was going to put a hit out on her surly he would have done so when she teased him about his broken equipment.

Though the text made her curious, for she knew, unlike Sherlock, he didn't like texting. Then she reminded herself that his job was boring for he pretty much had an important government job dealing with nothing but a bunch of boring politics.

If one day he ever wanted to share, because supposedly 'caring is sharing'…Perhaps when he was an old retired and slightly senile man and if they still happened to be friends…Maybe he'd call her up and share all his stories involving his job. Hopefully it was when she had an extremely bad case of insomnia. He'd probably have her in a deep coma in a matter of minutes.

"So…was there a car chase involved?" Molly decided to continue their conversation for he had been trying to impress her and all.

Mycroft looked confused for a second before a look of understanding lit his face. Taking away the arctic iciness that had once been in his eyes. His lips even lost its harshness.

She smiled in encouragement at him.

"No." Mycroft told her, "The capture of the spy did not involve a car chase."

Molly's smile faded slightly before asking hopefully, "Was there at least a big shoot out with lots of bullets flying?"

"No…" This time Mycroft sounded almost sad. "It didn't even involve on bullet being fired."

Molly sighed in disappointment.

"However, I did end up with a bruise on my arm from the encounter."

"Oh, my goodness are you okay?" She asked in true honest concern.

"I'm good." Mycroft mumbled rubbing lightly at his arm.

Molly eyed him with great sympathy. "How did it happen?"

"The spy was reading a book when I caught him and he threw the bloody thing at me."

"Was it a hardcover? Because if it was a thick one like any one of the 'Lord of the Ring' trilogies. That would have hurt like hell."

"Actually it was a very thick erotic paperback entitled 'How to Spank Your Naughty Vampire'…Also, remember if thrown correctly you could take someone's eye out. At least, that's what Mummy told me once when I threw a book at Sherlock."

Molly blinked at him. Wondering if she should place that book title under the list of books to read in the future. Mostly on the list titled 'what to read when drunk and alone'. Maybe she wouldn't have to be drunk to read it but defiantly when she was alone.

"Are you going to keep the book?" Molly asked curiously.

Mycroft narrowed his eyes at her. "No."

"Shame…" Molly muttered quickly drinking some water before suggesting, "Maybe the next time you want to impress me about how incredibly cool your job really is…_**LIE!**_ Lie big! Involve a crazy car chase like some shows on the telly do for no necessary reason. Then have a massive shoot out that would make any gun toting American proud if they heard it. You will also receive creative points if somewhere in the story you involve a camel and it's still alive at the end of the tale."

After a moment a random thought came to her. Molly didn't know why but she felt the need to ask.

"Seeing that you found that spy…Are you good at finding people?"

"Of course." Mycroft stated carelessly and with a slight wave of his hand. "Sherlock is very good at finding people too, but I have far more resources. I can control every camera in London as well as all of Britain. It's nearly impossible to hide from me."

"That's cool…in a creepy stalker like way yet still…cool."

"Finally! I receive some praise from you about what I do. I've told you countless times that I have a very cool job!"

Molly nearly hurt herself rolling her eyes. Mycroft sighed making her smile in which he slowly smiled back.

He sat down his fork and carefully and somewhat elegantly wiped his lips with his napkin. He studied her yet his thoughts seemed to be far away. A slight warm smile upon his face.

Finally he remarked, "When Sherlock and I were boys we would play 'hide and seek'. Sometimes even Mum and Dad would join in on the fun. And it was…a lot of fun. Yet, no matter what I did, the fake moves, all the red herrings, Sherlock would _always_ find me. No matter what he'd win, at that game anyway. He was crafty and sneaky as hell. Sometimes I'd swear that he'd simply disappear into the shadows with absolutely no trace." Mycroft's smile slowly faded, "He's the only person who could ever truly hide from me."

"I'm sure he does that only to annoy you." Molly said very softly. "And its okay you know…to miss your brother."

She instantly felt a wall come up as he looked away. He told her with a slight edge to his tone, "Let's change the subject please."

Molly understood so she wasn't at all offended. Sometimes he simply missed his brother more than he'd like to admit. She tilted her head thoughtfully, "Growing up, I was the 'hide and seek' champion of my small group of friends…Once I had my own brother looking for me for over three hours…"

"Perhaps he did not want to find you." Mycroft said very sarcastically.

"Oh, trust me; he was trying to find me." Molly said with a soft laugh, her fingers unknowingly caressing her trousers' pocket that just so happen to hold her brother's small green button. She used to play 'hide and seek' with Danny all the time. He'd pretend to be a cop and she'd always have to pretend to be the criminal. It always annoyed him greatly when he couldn't find her.

"Doubtful." He scoffed, breaking into her thoughts.

Molly narrowed her eyes taking that one word as a serious challenge. "Why because I'm a stupid little girl?"

He opened his mouth to quickly shut it once more to suddenly look at his watch. "I…um, really need to get going. I had a lovely time but I am quite certain that I must stop a war or um, something equally important…"

Molly slowly stood up placing her hands upon her kitchen table she leaned forward. Making damn sure her eyes never once left his. Her voice also never once wavered.

"Mycroft Holmes, I challenge you to a game of 'hide and seek', this very Saturday. I will hide for three hours, during that time you have to find me. I will let you pick the hours. During the first two of those hours you are not allowed to use any of your people or your favorite cameras. For I wouldn't want you to cheat during those first couple of hours."

Mycroft smirked, before asking in disbelief… "Seriously, Molly Hooper,_ you_ are actually challenging _me_?"

"Damn straight I am and I can win this game as I have done with countless board games that we've played! You can have me followed an hour before so you know exactly where I am but once the game starts you'll lose me."

"Let me guess, you'll end up hiding in the ladies toilets, yes? Trust me; I won't need three hours to find you." Mycroft told her with great certainty.

"_Yes…you will_." Molly stated knowingly. "I might go to the loo for a moment, but I will not stay there and I promise you; you will need all of those three hours for I am a very determine woman. I_ will_ win and when I do you will give me what I have always fantasied about…"

Mycroft simply stared at her with a lifted eyebrow waiting for her answer.

She waited a beat before she finally continued, "A man who will do_ all_ my dirty dishes without expecting unspeakable naughty sexual favors."

Mycroft seemed to sit there totally frozen. His face oddly blank before he slowly blinked a few times as if he had just reset his mental computer. He cleared his throat.

"_Naughty_, you say?"

"_So naughty it's unspeakable_! Please pay attention, Mycroft."

"Right." He cleared his throat once more. Molly hoped he wasn't coming down with a cold. He even looked a little flushed. "So…if you win which I highly doubt, I wash all your dishes?"

"Yes. You have to also wear my pink cat-a-tude apron but on the upside if you win than you can have me do something for you. Anything you want…within reason of course."

She wasn't sure where his mind suddenly went but he swallowed hard before he shook his head seeming to force himself into saying, "I'm not at all sure what that could possibly be."

"Perhaps I can do your dishes…It'll only be right seeing I'll have you doing mine. Maybe I can even scrub your floors!"

Mycroft made a slight choking noise before he got a hold of himself. Damn, she really hoped he wasn't coming down with a cold. "I actually pay someone to wash my dishes and…do my floors."

"Yes, but free is always so much better…Plus you in my pink kitty apron doing my dishes would be a totally priceless moment…"

~*~SH~*~SH~*~SH~*~

"So we agreed to play a fun little game of 'hide and seek' and I know I can beat him…I just know it! I just um, now getting a bit nervous over the planning of it." Molly finished, knowing she had edited quite a bit of the story…

"_**NOW**_?! Really,_ now_ you are getting nervous about challenging the great Mycroft Holmes—"John told her with very wide eyes.

Molly shrugged. "I enjoy challenging him. You see, he has such a boring job; he needs some adventure in his life. I'm thinking that is one of the main reasons he picked me to be his friend."

"I don't think being the British Government is at all a boring job." John said very carefully. He looked slightly worried about her mental capability.

Molly shrugged, doodling on her pad once more. "One, he pretty much as a government job. Two, he_ is _the British government…so…that screams boring to me. He deals with nothing but politics all day. Again, boring! I find I'd rather jump off a bridge attached to a bungee cord than talk about it. To be honest even talking about his job right now is making me want to yawn. Also, I have much more important things do, like winning this important game of 'hide and seek'."

"Ah, lovely girl power. You want to show Mr. Smartypants that just because you are a girl you can and will win." Mary said with complete understanding. Her eyes twinkled with good humor.

"Exactly! I know I can win plus the thought of a good looking man doing _all_ my dishes makes me incredibly happy!"

"Since when is Mycroft a good looking man…With all the time you are spending with Mycroft is it possible that you are now suffering from Stockholm Syndrome?" John asked worriedly.

Molly rolled her eyes. "Any man who does my dishes without expecting sexual favors is seriously _hot_ in my eyes…and _really Mycroft is not a bad looking man_. He is indeed handsome. Maybe he is not as handsome as his brother is-was but still…"

"I've never laid eyes on this Mycroft guy," Mary stated, "but if he actually did a good job washing my dishes I'd find him incredibly hot myself."

John gave Mary a look of wild disbelief.

Mary shrugged before telling him, "It's a woman thing, I totally understand even if you don't."

"Try washing Mary's dishes sometime without expecting anything in return and the next day_ all_ of Mary's girlfriends will think you are nearly as good as a expensive box of chocolates." Molly added.

"They would indeed be very envious." Mary quickly agreed before becoming very serious. "Okay, on Saturday leave your cellphone at home. If you need a phone buy a prepaid one and use cash. In fact anything you plan to use on Saturday use cash. When the game starts you will want to be somewhere incredibly busy and very crowded. He might be expecting this but even if he does you can and will become easily lost…"

Something flickered across her face just for a second. There was a certain sadness mixed with a cold harsh determination. She cleared her throat and continued… "Don't go to 'Harvey Nicks' you want to go to 'Harrods' seeing how tourists love shopping there…"

Molly's eyes widened at her words before protesting. "'Harrods' is absolutely crazy on Saturdays! Especially on Saturday! With all those crazy tourists the place is pure madness!"

Mary nodded knowingly, before giving her a truly wicked smile. "Yes, but to win sometimes you have to be able to be just a little mad…You will want to take a good size purse, have a couple of shopping bags in it, which later you will want to hide the purse in. If you start the game in jeans and an old T-shirt, and old shoes with your hair in a ponytail…Well, you will need to go into the Ladies Room and change into a comfortable dress and perhaps a different colored wig…even a brightly colorful hat. You can throw away the other outfit or shove it into the shopping bag. When you leave the restroom, leave with a group of three to four women. Talk to them, ask them where a certain shop is nearby, especially if you see that shopping bag one of them are holding with that store's name on it. It will look like you are with them to anyone watching. Walk with them for a little bit before casually leaving…Don't look around. Just walk away and out the doors. Get on a bus and then hide somewhere he'd never think of you being at least not right away. Do not hide yourself at home or even at Bart's. Stay far away from these places. Go somewhere you and he have never been together…Or you know he's never been…"

'Like Sherlock's grave for example…' Molly thought with a slow nod. She also couldn't help but think Mary must be damn good at hiding…

This woman was smart and she had some serious secrets but they were her secrets to keep. Seeing that it was none of Molly's business she'd never ask Mary about them…Let her kept them, she doubted they would ever hurt anyone.

Molly thanked Mary with a grateful heart before quickly drawing some cute little hearts around her now happy and oddly smiling kitten.

John narrowed his eyes on her writing pad before asking curiously and with just a little horror. "Did you give that cat a machine gun?"

Molly quickly covered, the no longer pathetic kitty, protectively with her hand.

"Don't judge me." She couldn't help but tell him meaning every word before she went back to doodling hearts and flowers

She really didn't need to make a list, she was certain she'd remember everything necessary to win…

And she would indeed win.

~*~END OF PART 9~*~


	10. Chapter 10

A big thank you to all who have taken the time to review.

Again, Cornishrexmomma you rock with the encouragement…

Okay, I do hope you are not disappointed with this part. In the last part I pretty much explained how Molly could win. At some point I might come back to this story in little one shots and write certain parts from Mycroft's view. From the game of 'hide and seek' to a much later part where Mycroft realizes just how much Molly means to him. It's just a thought and not sure I'll actually do it…But we will see…I've kind of challenged myself to see if I can keep things in Molly's view…yet trying to hint, hopefully more so in others just how much Molly is coming to mean to Mycroft. All that matters is I know how I want it to end and with a little time it's just getting there…Okay ,so for now, enough babbling…

Now on to the story…

* * *

~*~PART 10~*~

'…_if it should ever strike you that I am getting a little over confident in my powers, or giving less pains to a case than it deserves, kindly whisper "Norbury" in my ear, and I shall be infinitely obliged to you.'_

-The Yellow Face by Arthur Conan Doyle

* * *

To some it might look a bit odd to see a woman wearing a big bright and colorful sun hat simply sitting cross-legged near a grave stone all the while reading a mystery with a mischievous looking black cat on the cover that had a skull and crossbones dangling from the collar.

Molly was starting to think the victim's niece had killed the old hateful man in the book or it could be the gardener…the hateful man had been sleeping with his wife…but then she'd be highly disappointed for it had looked like the gardener had done it from chapter three. Surely, it had to be a misdirect. The gardener had to have been framed otherwise she was going to ask Sherlock, when he returned, to write the author an 'interesting' and truly scathing letter…after she found a way to get him to read the book, of course.

For only Sherlock Holmes knew how to write 'interesting' truly scathing letters to mystery authors.

John had told her how he caught him doing that once when Sherlock was supposedly bored and restless all the while demanding John to go out and buy him cigarettes and a bottle of acid so he could experiment on a hand Molly had been nice enough to give to him.

John said they were letters challenging authors to get their facts right and to stop being such stupid arse holes! Whoever Sherlock declared to be the murderer simply had to be the killer!

If the mystery writer was incredibly horrid with his or hers facts, Sherlock would declare quite vehemently that John was a thousand times better writer than they could ever be and John wasn't all that good to begin with.

To this day John was still not fond of that backhanded compliment.

Molly gleefully smiled as she heard a familiar voice saying almost sulkily that he had finally found her. Even with his tone being low and soft it seemed to carry in the well kept cemetery.

"Actually the game has been over for_ two hours_." Molly informed him, calmingly placing her colorful cross-stitched bookmark into her book before closing it. Feeling highly satisfied with herself. "Want me to give you the actual minutes and seconds, Mycroft?"

"Show off." Mycroft muttered before glaring at her in displeasure.

Molly slowly stood up with a laugh as she brushed the back of her butt.

"_Tell me, Mycroft, were you even trying?"_ Molly questioned airily.

Mycroft's lips pressed together tightly in annoyance was all the answer she had needed.

"You were beaten by a stupid little girl!" Molly sang mockingly rubbing it in big time, still smiling brightly, full of overwhelming happiness.

Mycroft looked away before saying, "You are _not_ a stupid little girl."

Molly cupped a hand near her ear as if she couldn't hear a single word. It must really have hurt him to say that but she felt certain that he'd live.

Mycroft sighed heavily as if the weight of the whole damn universe was upon his shoulders. He finally studied her once more, "You bloody heard me! I'm no repeating myself, Molly! Seriously, there are some people out there that know how to win a game gracefully without acting like a child—"

"Well, if you want you can go out and become their friend! I'm not stopping you." Molly cut in with great joy. "Right now, however your one and only bestie is rubbing the fact she won _**IN YOUR FACE**_!"

With that she began to dance. Hands and feet moving randomly and freely. With no real purpose or beat.

"I won! I won!" Molly sang out. Highly enjoying herself. "Mycroft has to wash_** all**_ my dishes."

"I'm starting to wish I hadn't bothered to look for you at all." Mycroft told her very dryly and in a completely deadpanned manner.

Molly laughed once more. "You never would have_ not_ looked for me, for you can't stand leaving something half finished even a small silly game of 'hide and seek'."

Instead of agreeing with her, he stated with absolutely no trace of anger, "You do realize that you are dancing upon my dear sweet brother's grave, right?"

She slowly came to a stop, panting slightly, "Just watch, when Sherlock comes back he'll probably come out here and do exactly what I was doing. Except he'll do a lot more twirling with that cool coat of his. For honestly, how many men can say they've danced on their own graves?"

"Yes, there is a slight chance that he'll do exactly that…if he thinks of it. Still it's odd to watch someone dance on my brother's grave even if it's a fake one."

"You want to know what's odd? Your brother and I are the only two people _ever_ to beat your skinny little ass at 'hide and seek'!"

"Thank you for calling my ass skinny, I do appreciate it. So…When are you going to stop bragging about winning?" Mycroft asked almost in desperation.

"Hmm…" Molly tried her best to look as if she was seriously thinking about his question before stating with a wildly mischievous grin, "How about…_**NEVER**_? Oh, Mycroft you are going to look so delightful and cute wearing my pink kitty-tude apron…It even has classic ruffles on and around the top!"

Mycroft closed his eyes in apparent despair. "Must I really wear that?"

Molly nodded, "We did agree to those terms, so yes, also those butler like clothes of yours must be protected at all costs. It's for your own good really. Plus, I'm going to have to take your picture while you wash all my dishes."

"What ?! I never agreed to that!" Mycroft protested.

"Mycroft, think for a moment. It's just a simple, slightly silly picture. One I will perhaps need one day. Sherlock will return home and my good friend John is going to feel hurt, angry and_ very_ betrayed. He will find out that_ I_ helped in that betrayal. He will never physically hurt me but I know he will confront me…and maybe if I show it to him as he angrily tells me that we need to talk…The surprise of such an unexpected picture will give me a chance to apologize and ask for forgiveness." Molly told him with strong guilt in her voice.

Feeling suddenly sad at the thought of losing John's friendship, all because she had helped another dear friend. One Molly had actually thought she had loved. But now…Molly knew she cared deeply for Sherlock but she was no longer certain what she felt for him was in anyway romantic.

"Really?" Mycroft asked softly, carefully. "You, honestly believe that a picture of me in your pink kitty-tude apron with those damn blasted ruffles will lead him into instantly forgiving you?"

Molly shrugged, "It doesn't hurt to try…Plus, delightful picture of you in my pink kitty apron…Who in their right mind could resist that?"

Mycroft placed his hands into his trouser's pockets and studied his brother's tombstone. After a long moment he sighed before surprising her, "Okay, you can take _one_ picture. Only one! You and John are the only people allowed to view it. After John sees it you are to get rid of the picture…"

Molly spontaneously reached out to give him a quick sideways hug. He stiffed slightly before he seemed to relax into it. An arm came up and awkwardly returned the hug before they pulled apart.

"Thank you, Mycroft! Thank you!" Molly said full of gratitude. She knew she would end up storing the picture on her phone, saving it for the day Sherlock would return and John found out about her deception.

On that day, she would get rid of the picture by sending it to John's phone with a text begging for his forgiveness.

It was in no way what Mycroft meant but then he seeing that he was in politics he should realize that if he didn't say exactly what he means than loopholes would be found and Molly was smart enough to find loopholes.

"You are welcome Molly; you are now the 'hide and seek' champion." Mycroft stated with a slight pout. He honestly still seemed to be in shock over having had lost. "So…I know you have some pink rubber gloves with daisies on them…You don't expect me to wear them to do you?"

"No, you don't have too, unless you want too…" Molly told him before biting her lip and eyeing him hopefully.

Mycroft glanced at her before looking away once more.

"Damn it…" He muttered, "I should have made John Watson be my friend…Even if he would have at first punched me hard in the face."

"Yeah…" Molly nodded in agreement and some half-hearted sympathy. "You probably should have picked him to be your bestie. Sadly_, you chose me_ instead. So it's your entire fault really…It's all about choices…Like wearing those gloves for example would be entirely your choice. However, I plan to dirty every single pot, pan, dish, container and tea cup I own. Those soft well-manicured hands are going to look and feel very different when you are done. Those gloves just might protect those fragile, dainty and oh so soft hands of yours Mycroft…"

He shot her a look of great annoyance. Either because he knew she would indeed dirty every dish she owned just for him or he took offence to his hands being called 'dainty'…It was a mystery that Molly really didn't care about.

"You might look like an innocent angel…" Mycroft informed her, "but you really are not…You are actually an extremely cute little devil…If you had any government power at all, you'd easily bring nations to their knees."

Molly laughed, having no interest in bringing nations to their knees. Instead she shared a valued memory from her past, "My brother once told me that my beautiful demon horns were the only thing holding up my halo which he was quite certain I had stolen…So, do you want me to give you John's number? Maybe you can make yourself a fun little play date and hopefully you can get yourself a brand new bestie. Perhaps even one that doesn't kick your ass at 'hide and seek'…"

"No. Even with you kicking my ass. I don't want or need any more besties…thank you very much." Mycroft stated pompously and with great audacity.

"Aww…Are you afraid that you might _enjoy_ having another friend? That you might end up becoming a collector of friends just like how my great aunt Agatha collected cats and gay ex-husbands?"

He studied her intently. He might have asked himself if he really wanted to know more about her great aunt Agatha…or if he would enjoy having more friends. Either way something flashed within those highly intelligent eyes of his that made Molly wish she could know what was going on in that brilliant brain of his.

She knew he spoke honestly when he informed her, "_You and Sherlock are the only friends I need. Will ever need or want…_"

Molly looked away as agony filled her at the sharp reminder that once Sherlock returned there was a strong chance that Mycroft would no longer need her friendship. Whatever they had, this grand experiment of he's would be over. They would be over.

He probably…stupidly, meant his words as a compliment.

"What?" Mycroft asked his tone actually full of concern.

Molly sighed and instead of telling him what was actually going on in her head she went with what was also going on in her heart.

"Mycroft…You are such a good man you really should_ try_ to make more friends. It pains me greatly to think…of you being completely alone. Anyone would be so lucky to have your friendship…"

"Why? So they can foolishly attempt to use me? I'm a very powerful man in an incredibly powerful position. Plus…Everyone else is so stupid compared to me. Out there is a world full of goldfish, Molly. Though if it's any consultation I no longer find _you_ to be a goldfish…"

Molly gave him a small smile. "If you give others a chance…Maybe…Just maybe…you will find there are others out there who are not goldfish either…"

"Or, which is more likely, I will become highly disgusted when I find more people out there who seem to choke upon their own air."

"Mycroft…"

"Nor am I lonely." Mycroft stated before studying his brother's tombstone as if this was the first time he was actually seeing it. Perhaps it was. "Are you…lonely, Molly?"

Molly simply watched him. Standing there so ramrod straight looking elegant in that classy and highly expensive three piece suit. He looked quite handsome and completely untouchable. A hard and cold stone that was even out of place in a cemetery. It made Molly long to reach out and attempt to shatter the illusion before her.

"I use to be lonely all the time, yes…" Molly admitted honestly. "However I haven't felt that way in a long time."

In fact it wasn't until Mycroft came into her life that overwhelming loneliness finally stopped trying to drown her in a forlorn sea of isolation.

Molly knew one day in the future she'd go out for fish and chips and wish with all her heart that Mycroft was there with her. She was going to seriously miss him when he no longer wanted or needed her.

It would hurt but she'd accept and treasure the memories he was giving her. She truly enjoyed their banter, companionship and their friendship.

She never thought it possible to wish that Sherlock would take his sweet time in coming home to stay. She was a horrible friend really. For here she was hoping that the great detective that she'd do anything for, even help fake his death…That he would stay away so she could continue to selfishly enjoy Mycroft's friendship.

Though maybe when Sherlock came home Mycroft will decide to stay friends with her.

Maybe…Just maybe…

Sure and maybe she'd find that Toby had actually cleaned out his own litter box when she got home too.

Mycroft turned his head and looked at her. A flash of tender warmth filled his gaze. "I'm glad you no longer feel lonely, Molly, very glad actually…"

Molly slowly smiled as she reached out and compassionately touched his arm. She watched him relax slightly into her very light caress.

"Want to guess what I'm _really_ glad about?" Molly preened proudly.

Mycroft looked a little put out as he reached out and carefully put his hand on top of hers.

"You won." Mycroft sighed sounding completely down trodden.

"It was your own fault really. You allowed your own egotistical pride to get in the way of the game. You didn't take it at all seriously because your pride told you that you would obviously win. You became lazy, allowing me to beat you…"

"You are now officially the only woman to have ever beaten me…You know if this hadn't been a silly game…"

"I'm certain I would have still won, Mycroft." Molly told him. She knew it would have been a great challenge but she would have hidden herself completely away so he would never have found her. Ever. Even if it had meant faking her own death…

Mycroft sighed, before stating tolerantly, "I'm very glad you are not my enemy."

"As you should be…I do apologize about hurting your pride." Molly said carefully. Knowing and understanding that no matter how fun or completely silly their game had been she still bruised his ego.

Mycroft shook his head, "Don't apologize. Perhaps I needed a little wake up call. At least, I will always win at chess and deduction with you."

Molly laughed, "True." She would allow him that for now anyway. "You know, I think I know how to make you feel in control and manly once more…"

He shot her a questioning look.

"Take me somewhere and buy me food. Seeing how I missed lunch, eating will indeed be a good thing. I read an on-line study about how men need to feel like manly men again. Women are so independent now days. Yet, if they feed their women, make them happy suddenly they feel manly once more. Men you see, use to hunt and bring home the dinner in ancient times…Though going out and getting premade food instead of attacking something with sticks and handmade knives will be more acceptable in this day and age…Mycroft, seriously you are soon going to be wearing a pink kitty apron…I think feeding me will be for your own good…"

She knew was saying that a lot but it was still true.

"For my own good…" Mycroft repeated slowly. "My wearing your pink kitty apron or my feeding you?"

"I find that to be a bit of a mystery so I don't really know but if you want when your brother returns you can ask him to solve it for us." She told him just as slowly.

Mycroft shot her another highly annoyed look that was mixed with a little bit of horror. "Sherlock will _never _learn about how I wore a pink kitty apron. _**EVER!**_ Now with that said…Let us leave this place for I feel the need to feed you right away."

"Oh, that's the spirit, Mycroft! Taking charge and being all manly. I knew you could do it! By the way the better the food the more manly you will feel." Molly informed him happily. Not sure if the study had any truth to it what so ever but she was delighted to use the study if it involves eating some very yummy food.

Mycroft kept his word and bought her food to eat…Expensive and very satisfying food, of course.

Only Mycroft knew if he felt manly or not…

All Molly knew for certain was that she was incredibly happy and she a 'stupid little girl', who Mycroft finally admitted out loud no less, was not at all a 'stupid little girl'...She won a very important game of 'hide and seek'…

For now life was fantastic! She couldn't image it becoming better.

~*~END OF PART 10~*~


	11. Chapter 11

Cornishrexmomma you do rock with the encouragement!

WhiffyBee, You do know how to make me smile, seriously! This part is for you…See, I prefer to do my killing with kindness…*quickly hides bag with various weapons with an innocent smile*

Thanks for the reviews and I do hope you continue to enjoy…

Do remember that this is a 'weird' story, and personally I enjoy writing 'weird' stories, so please don't expect anything else…Otherwise, please have a lovely day…

~*~PART 11~*~

"_I know, I have a list. Mycroft has a file._" –Sherlock

From season 3 _Sherlock_, 'Sign of Three'

'…_It was the most preposterous position in which I ever found myself in_…'

-A Scandal in Bohemia by Arthur Conan Doyle

* * *

"Alright, I have a bag of yummy baked goods that you can take home before you leave later. Also, I made a bag that you can give to Anthea. You both can freeze them for later so they don't go bad." Molly told Mycroft as she watched him viciously wash her muffin pan.

"Make sure you don't miss that spot right there…" Molly quickly pointed out the spot in question.

Mycroft looked at her with narrowed eyes that would have had the strongest MI6 agent back away a few steps, truly shaken, whereas Molly simply smiled at him happily.

"I do see the spot, Molly and I will wash it. As I have with all the other blasted spots that you have pointed out! Don't you have something else to do other than watch me wash your bloody dishes?" Mycroft stated between clenched teeth.

"Like dirty up more dishes for you to wash?" Molly asked with way too much wide-eyed innocence. "Because I will be very happy to do that, Mycroft. Incredibly happy to do that."

"I'm starting to completely understand why friends kill their own friends in the most violent manner…" Mycroft said in a totally completely dry tone.

"I'm thinking it's so they can go to prison and meet people they wouldn't normally meet otherwise…and they can then make themselves a whole new group of friends! Never fear, Mycroft, I'm not looking for any new intense and _non-boring_ friends at the moment so you are quite safe. For now at least…Let's simply give it a few more months to see what happens, shall we?" Molly informed him cheekily with an even wider brilliant smile.

Mycroft blinked at her slowly before his brilliant gaze narrowed some more as he suddenly grabbed the water spout aimed it her way to shoot her with water.

Molly jumped back with a startled squawk. Mycroft's chuckle in response sounded positively evil.

Stunned she looked at her colorful yet slightly wet buttoned all the way up to the lower part of her neck of a blouse, she looked at him with an opened mouth.

"Mycroft, did _you_ just hit me with water?" Molly questioned in awe that he had such a playful side. Even if she had annoyed him greatly into it.

"No, of course not." Mycroft denied with a sarcastic twist to his lips. "Toby did it."

Molly narrowed her eyes at his quite obvious and daring lie. To think he dared to lay the blame at Toby's sweet and totally innocent paws…

Toby, who had been very happily washing his hind leg with a lot of fervor until the extremely foolish humans decided to play with water forcing him to flee the room as if his beautiful tail was lit on fire. He was going to leave a very special present on his slave's bedspread after his heart calmed down and he napped for a few hours under his human's bed…

Molly slowly looked over at her container of flour and sugar that was close by to where she stood…She had meant to put it away after she was done but hadn't…

"I wouldn't…" Mycroft warned as if reading her mind, "I said I'd wash your dishes not clean your kitchen or your floors."

"Well…I'm not you and in all honesty," Molly informed him, her voice quite certain. "Cleaning my own floors will be totally worth it."

With that she snatched her flour container and grabbed a handful of the soft substance to fling it at him. It hadn't been intentional but the fine white powder hit Mycroft squarely in the face with perfect accuracy.

He rubbed at his face before shooting her with more water.

Molly was no fool; she had been expecting exactly that response so she attacked him with even more flour.

He was pretty much stuck at her sink which for Molly was her advantage point.

She could attack him from all sides except for his back of course…Molly moved quickly as if she was playing an intense game of tennis. It may have been many years sense playing that game but her body seemed to remember.

Molly was going to have to do some serious cleaning and buy another bag of flour, perhaps even sugar seeing she was now throwing handfuls at him as well…but as she had told Mycroft, it would be totally worth it.

At some point during their crazy fun and quite messy war Mycroft attempted to side step away from her overwhelming attack. The now slick floor caused his feet to slide and lose control of gravity with great vengeance.

Molly gasped with wide-eyed horror as he fell down seriously hard upon her tiled and sadly dirty kitchen floor. There was a strong possibility that his ass had a serious bruise upon it not that he'd ever share that information with her of course…

"Oh, Mycroft…" Molly began, rushing towards him to help, "are you o…ARH!"

She gave a startled scream as she fell just as hard, right on Mycroft no less.

Molly slowly lifted her face from her friend's lap. They looked into each other's wide and startled eyes before they slowly began to laugh together. Like school children their laughter grew. Molly's insides began to hurt slightly from the carefree laughter that was so hard and with such wild abandonment.

The laughter was slow to die but when it did fade away something in the air around them had changed. A spark of something in the sudden silence; a soft yet profound intimacy, which neither could ignore.

Molly attempted to get control of her breathing as she studied Mycroft. He watched her intently in return much like a wild predator about to take a risky chance with very skittish prey…

His face slowly leaned towards hers and she found her face moving sluggishly forwards his as well. Her breath held as his lips carefully as if testing her response, softly caressed her lips. It was quite chaste actually…So light and much too brief for Molly's liking.

He pulled away slightly and Molly reached up with her flour and sugar covered palms to grab his cheeks before she settled her mouth very firmly over his.

Mycroft's wet, hot and ungloved hand came up and tenderly laid it upon her throat; his thumb caressing her jaw line as he kissed her back with equal and great fervor.

There was much enthusiasm and intense emotion within the kiss. A desperate yearning warmth and a certain craving filled Molly…

It had been a long damn time since she felt this…this heated rapture.

She really should be bothered about what this wonderful kiss would do to their friendships. It better not be part of some crazy experiment on Mycroft's part.

Yet, if Molly truly thought about it she was the one to take their kiss further…

However, sane thought seemed to go to the waste side and all Molly knew was that she welcomed the surge of heat that was coursing through her veins.

Molly really didn't want the kiss to end it was simply too good. Intensely warm, moist and oh so perfect…

Yet, as the way with much in life all things come to a close. Much like the season be it good or bad.

So…

The kiss…

The wonderful perfect kiss…

Slowly ended.

Molly carefully opened her eyes to study the man next to her. A man she had just passionately kissed and in complete honestly had enjoyed it immensely. In fact, all she wanted to do was kiss him some more. A lot more, but really was good kissing worth their friendship?

"Mycroft…" She said his name softly.

"Molly…" Mycroft breathed low, her name was said so much softer in comparison to how she had said his name. Still the way he had said her name sent a truly delightful thrill through her…

She reached up and laid her hand upon his…The hand that still rested upon the side of her neck.

"Mycroft…" She couldn't help but repeat his name. Still quite soft.

Mycroft blinked rapidly a few times before he took a deep breath and as he slowly released it, his hand slipped from beneath hers and away from her throat.

The second that happened she began to miss his warm touch.

"Sorry…That shouldn't have happened…Kissing you will never happen again…"He promised.

Molly slowly blinked at him stunned. Hurt suddenly filled her heart so much so that it ached. To think he regretted that extremely exquisite and perfectly wonderful kiss…

What was it about her that made men want to use her, ignore her, hurt her or even worse reject her…?

She would never regret that passionate kiss even if he did.

Molly scooted hastily away from him before carefully standing up. She shrugged, desperately trying not to care as she forced herself to look away.

"I don't regret our kiss…" She told him honestly. Her voice thick with emotion yet because she still had her pride she simply had to lie. "It was an okay kiss, but really I've had better…Perhaps you should practice, you know, with someone other than me."

Hopefully _never_ in front of her…

Molly waited a beat before she continued her tone no longer so emotional in fact it was a bit frigid…"You know, there are only a few dishes left maybe after you do them you should go. A new episode of 'Doctor Who' will be coming on and I don't want to miss it. Also, I'm sure you have more important things to do."

'Like go away so she could perhaps cry alone' Molly thought to herself.

With that she carefully made her way out of the kitchen with as much dignity as she could manage…Slipping only twice, yet not falling, which she thought was a huge accomplishment. She had a real mess to clean up.

"Molly…" She heard Mycroft say her name, yet she ignored him. Molly desperately needed to get away from him.

Once Molly was in her sitting room, she moved quickly towards her window to look out not really seeing anything. All the while hugging herself tightly. Refusing to fall apart.

She heard what sounded like someone crashing down hard upon the floor and was that one of her wooden kitchen chairs falling as well?

Her eyes widened enormously as she heard loud raunchy and very filthy words coming from her kitchen. Who knew that Mr. Always-in-control Mycroft Holmes had such a potty mouth? To think she had willingly kissed that mouth just moments ago…Aww, hell she'd do it again in a heartbeat…

However she wasn't going to go check on him. If he could curse than obviously he was alive…Bruised yes, but still alive…

After a few minutes Mycroft carefully entered the room, he acted as if he was a little bit sore. Molly really didn't bother to look his way but she _felt_ him in the room with her.

Maybe because he was such a damn control freak that when he entered a room he seemed to become a quiet calm master over it, who had an unquestionable authority over all and everything. Including her bloody room, hell even her own blasted flat! He couldn't own or control her cat yet Toby seemed to like and love him as much as he loved tuna and his catnip filled toys…Molly wished she could hate him, really she did.

"Molly?" He actually had the decency to sound hesitant and completely unsure about the situation he now faced.

Good. More proof that he was human! Though maybe she didn't want to be reminded of that fact…

For maybe…Just maybe if she didn't think of him as a human than he could never, ever hurt her again. Purposely or accidently.

"Molly?" Mycroft repeated.

She hugged herself even tighter.

"Don't you have dishes to finish?" Molly finally answered him after she found her voice all the while refusing to look at him.

"Well, yes and I'll finish them of course." Mycroft stated with great certainty.

"Right, so…shouldn't you be washing them _at this very moment_, Mycroft?"

"No." Mycroft told her, "I believe we should…you know…_talk_."

Molly's arms seemed to tighten themselves even more around herself; she was seriously surprised not to feel them breaking.

"Now, why do you believe such a stupid thing?" Molly asked wryly.

"Well, _**you**_ said that, that was what friends do. They _talk_ and have deep meaningful conversations."

This time she looked at him with angry narrowed eyes.

Really, he would actually use _her_ _own words_ against her? He best be careful or Mycroft could easily end up with another bruise and it won't be caused by falling on her own slippery floor!

To honestly think that he seriously believed he was _the smart one_. Really? Molly still had her doubts on that.

"Right now I'm tempted to slap you quite hard in the face and not feel an ounce of guilt about it. So, perhaps you should finish my dishes and leave." Inside Molly felt so very cold she wondered if her tone reflected exactly that.

For the first time ever Mycroft looked seriously perplexed and a bit apprehensive. "Molly…are we still…friends?"

Molly's arms loosed around herself as she blinked in surprise at such a ridiculous question. Okay, she no longer had any doubts…He wasn't _the smart one_ at all, in fact he was _the stupid one_.

Sadly, most men are really idiots _and_ she just found another one.

"Of course, we are still besties, you moron! Just because I'm mad at you does not change that absolute fact! Friends get angry with each other and then life goes on! It goes on, Mycroft with us still being besties, gee will you get a damn, bloody clue already!" Molly informed him, highly annoyed.

"Why are you so mad?" Mycroft asked clearly confused that he couldn't deduce why and simply had to ask. Oh yes, he was definitely Mr. Stupid.

"Go wash my freaking dishes!" Molly answered back hotly, before she pointed to the kitchen. "NOW!"

"Are you mad about the kiss or…?" Mycroft questioned honestly looking even more confused.

"I liked the kiss!" Molly yelled, "Why in the bloody hell would I be upset about it?"

"So you are angry because…" Mycroft hesitated as if he was quickly rummaging through the darkest and dustiest corners of his brain. "Because I said the kiss shouldn't have happened and—"

"You dare finish that sentence Mycroft Holmes and I will seriously bruise your groin area." Molly found herself saying this very calmly.

His eyes widened slightly before he cleared his throat. "I find that I'm seriously surprised that your file makes no mention of the fact that you have violent tendencies…"

Molly breathed deeply through her nose as fury rushed through her veins before asking in great anger…

"_**You have a file on me?**__"_

Mycroft's eyes widened some more. She slowly took a couple of steps towards him and in any other circumstances she would have laughed at seeing the quite powerful man take a couple of steps back.

"I…um…" Mycroft began to say anxiously, "I have files on anyone that knows or has any contact with my brother! I even have files on my own parents!"

As if that made it totally okay to have a file on her…

Yet she froze as what he was saying finally hit her, Molly found herself slowly blinking at him. "You actually have files on your mum and dad? Really?"

"Of course! They are highly suspicious characters _and_ because they are my parents…and with my powerful position…they must _always_ be guarded in some small way. Protected yet not let that protection be too overwhelming or interfere in their life in any way. Just like with our friendship you too must be guarded. Protected. My parents file as well as Sherlock's _and_ yours are all together in the extremely important file."

"Extremely important file?" Molly asked softly. Her fury no longer in the driver's seat.

Mycroft nodded before answering softly and honestly, "Very much so. You are very important, Molly. To be honest I haven't personally looked at your file for a very long time…The file…Your file doesn't…it's not very complete actually. It doesn't speak of your insane enjoyment for musicals; or even your love for reading mystery novels or the secret stash of paranormal romances that you keep hidden in quite frankly the strangest of places…Nor does it tell of how you seem to find it hilarious whenever you drive me crazy…It does not even speak of how if your television ever broke down during a new episode of any favorite show of yours; you would weep and curse the heavens right before you'd attack it with a blunt metal instrument."

Molly looked away before muttering, "It only happened _once_ and I probably shouldn't have shared that story with you."

"But you _did_ share it with me and that's my point really…_Your file is not at all interesting yet __**you**__ are_."

Molly sighed; Mycroft was a very unique man. A man with whom she accepted just as he was even if his actions made her scratch her head in bewilderment.

"You are an odd man, Mycroft Holmes…" Molly stated softly, knowing that she had forgiven him for having a file on her and for regretting such a wonderful kiss…Perhaps she was an otiose fool.

"And you are an odd woman, Molly Hooper…" Mycroft replied softly. His eyes completely focused on her.

Molly gave him a gentle yet slightly weak smile in an attempt to show him that she was still okay. Also there friendship was completely without any doubt going to be alright as well.

She slowly moved towards him and this time he didn't take even one step back for he seemed to know that the violent storm had pasted for now anyway.

"So…Your parents are highly suspicious characters?" Molly found herself asking curiously.

Mycroft's lips pressed together wondering if he really should reveal a great Holmes' family secret…

Molly bit her lip in anticipation, she just knew he was about to share something extremely important.

What could it be? Did his parents enjoy making bombs out in their greenhouse? Were they the ones that taught him that bodies in the garden make damn fine fertilizer? Was his dad a former MI6 agent? Was his Mom a British spy and a former assassin? Could that be how they met each other? Ooo, even better, did they own a TARDIS?

"Because…" Mycroft seemed to draw out the word.

'Come on, TARDIS', Molly thought, mentally crossing her fingers.

Mycroft finally continued as if truly disgusted…"They are well past child baring years and even with one's partner having osteoporosis they both insist on having an active sex life! With each other no less! You cannot tell me that isn't suspicious behavior!"

Damn, that's a real shame…No TARDIS.

Molly shook her head, trying to hide her laughter. "Gee, no wonder you find them highly suspicious characters."

Mycroft narrowed his eyes at her, "Well, they are. They need to stop such madness—Blast it all, it's not funny, Molly!"

She covered her mouth with hand, trying to stop laughing but couldn't. After a bit she gasped between giggles, "It's actually quite sweet really…After all these years together they are still very much in love and into each other…Oh, God! Into each other!"

"It's _**not **_sweet or funny…" Mycroft stated sourly.

She couldn't seem to stop giggling like an insane villain on the telly.

Mycroft watched her closely before stepping near her.

"Molly?"

Her laughter faded but she had no idea how radiant her face was. Her eyes dancing with great humor and love of life. Molly's smile was big and bright with not one single lie or malicious intent that Mycroft Holmes normally saw everyday in others.

He tilted his head as if thinking about something very important. For a second Molly felt sure his brilliant mind was dealing with politics, figures or even England's security. He could be so boring at times.

"Yes, Mycroft?" Molly found herself asking.

"I wish to apologize for lying to you earlier." He said the words carefully as if he was not use to speaking such a rare perhaps even dead foreign language.

Molly titled her head in confusion; he wasn't really making any sense.

"You see…" Mycroft took a deep breath and a step closer; he lifted his hand to touch her cheek. "I lied to you when I said that I wouldn't ever be kissing you again."

With that he bent his head to capture her mouth with his own…

It wasn't until later that he actually finished her dishes and cleaned her kitchen floor.

She may have missed her show sadly but she caught it on-line later…

Molly hoped Mycroft realized just how lucky he was that she was such a forgiving woman.

~*~END OF PART 11~*~


	12. Chapter 12

Cornishrexmomma, a big thank you as always for your encouragement and kindness. You do rock.

WhiffyBee, you are wonderful, thank you...You do rock as well my dear...

As does everyone that has taken the time to read this and I do hope has deeply enjoyed and still is enjoying even when wondering where in the hell I'm going with this but don't you worry _I do_ know what will happen…well anyway, I do thank you. There are better stories out there and far better writers that I'm a bit envious of and I'm grateful that you are still stopping by and reading this 'weird' story of mine. When I first started this story I honestly feared that people would beg me to stop…Thank you so much for not doing that and making me doubt my fear…That alone is a beautiful gift. So again, _**thank you**_.

More will be coming and as always have a lovely day…

big mental hug ~Moonunit

* * *

~*~PART 12~*~

'…_But from you I shall have no secrets_…'

-The Gloria Scott by Arthur Conan Doyle

'_I had called upon my friend…with the intention of wishing him the compliments of the season_.'

-The Blue Carbuncle by Arthur Conan Doyle

* * *

Molly carefully and aiming for great stealth pulled back the beautiful heavy deep burgundy curtains…

Her fingers carefully and quite gently caressed them. They even _felt_ expensive. Molly knew her heart would stop if she ever found out just how much they were worth.

Her warm breath instantly fogged up the clear glass as she looked out at the beautiful winter wonderland outside. The snow was coming down in big flakes. Even with how bitterly cold it was she was tempted to run out there and build a big happy snow man…maybe even make a snow woman with a couple of snow children.

If Mycroft wasn't so sick and felt so certain that he was on death's doorstep she'd have tried to find away to get him out there to make a happy snowman family. She had to wonder if Mycroft and Sherlock had ever made snowmen as children or if they just hadn't seen it as a very logical thing to do even as with young as they were.

Deep and very ugly sounding coughing can from the huge bed behind her.

Molly dropped the curtain and turned around to face a truly miserable Mycroft…The normally always in control man was sitting up with pillows piled high behind him. He wore elegant silk dark blue pajamas with white buttons and his initials in white upon a silken pocket.

His eyes looked red, extremely tired and highly annoyed by the fact that he, the great and infallible Mycroft Holmes could ever come down with something so damn common as a cold. He had honestly thought himself above all that.

Stupid man. He worked himself into the ground and she knew he was not taking prober care of himself. Sure he did his best to eat right, he exercised like an obsessed man and he even took silly diet pills…

Mostly because Mycroft didn't want Sherlock to call him fatty the moment he saw him again. The thing was Sherlock would probably do it anyway just to annoy the hell out of his big brother.

Yet, when Mycroft wasn't hanging out with her, he was working like a man obsessed with a strong need to control everything around him. Doing more free lancing for the CIA…Lots of dangerous espionage…Working long tedious hours dealing with figures and foreign polities…

Which whenever he'd make a passing comment on any of these things she'd sometimes would hold up her fingers making a cross and hissing at him…A hiss that would have made Toby quite proud.

She also knew he was constantly worried about Sherlock…

Mycroft hated that he had to rely on others for any news about his brother. Worried that Sherlock knew without a doubt that his very powerful big brother could do nothing to stop him from slipping back into drugs. The only comfort Mycroft had was his brother was so totally focused on destroying Moriarty's vast network that there was a chance that Sherlock wouldn't succumb to that horrid temptation to reawaken that dark addictive beast within him.

Mycroft had shared with Molly that his parents were also asking for more updates. Their worry, stress and heartfelt concern weighed heavily upon him.

He felt, perhaps wrongly, that they blamed him in some small way for letting his younger brother, whom he should have been there for and was expected to somehow keep Sherlock from getting into so much trouble that he had to fake his own death…

Plus all those horrid and ghastly things people were saying about their son, hurt Mycroft's parents deeply. There had been a few times his mother had called him sobbing over the hateful lies that were being spoken about her little boy, her Sherlock…

Mycroft had shared with Molly oh so quietly and with overwhelmingly honestly about how completely helpless he felt whenever she'd do that. It wasn't often but when she did call sobbing…

Molly knew it had to break his heart to listen to his mother's tears, her worry and her fear for her youngest son and for him to accept that there wasn't a damn bloody thing that he could do about it. The whole stupid world might call him the 'Ice man' and he may even mock sentiment but he was still a man affected by his beloved mummy's tears.

Mycroft was overly stressed and if he wasn't careful a physical and perhaps even mental breakdown was headed his was. He was lucky he ended up with an awful cold and not something worse.

The man in question noisily blew his nose. It was a sore bright red looking. His gasp for breath told Molly that he had used up a lot of his energy as he carelessly tossed his tissue down into his wastebasket. At least he tried to put it in the wastebasket for it was already overfilling with other wadded up and used tissues.

Molly calmly watched the tissue make its grand escape as it bounced twice and fell onto the floor.

"Would you like me to empty your wastebasket?" Molly asked him longing to be helpful.

"I pay people to take care of these things…" Mycroft stated hoarsely, his throat sounded quite painful and scratchy. "Let them earn their paycheck for once."

Molly rolled her eyes before reminding him softly, "It's Christmas, Mycroft."

Mycroft began to cough after a long moment he shrugged carelessly, before continuing, "So, tomorrow isn't. Let my servants work as I pay them to do…"

"Scrooge!" Molly muttered darkly.

"Am not!" Mycroft replied highly offended. "I give everyone who works under me a lovely holiday bonus and a gift card to buy a bloody holiday feast for their own family if they so choose…So how does that make me a Scrooge?"

Molly slowly walked over to his bed stopping to pick up a shiny 'happy holidays' bag with colorful glittered tissue paper sticking out on top. All the while giving him a lovely soft smile.

"Yet I know you only do that to keep from being visited by three ghosts and to keep your brother from calling you a big fat Scrooge."

Mycroft grunted in a very ungentlemanly like manner as she carefully climbed up and sat on the end of his bed. His bedspread was a deep rich burgundy with light gold stitching.

It was so breathtakingly beautiful. Molly absolutely loved it and was quite certain that it was feather downed. The dry cleaning bill on it must cost a small fortune. She would bet that it cost more than what she could ever have in her bank account.

The comforter felt truly divine and she longed to take it from Mycroft and happily wrap herself in it's lovely warmth but seeing how his hand gripped at the top edge as his other hand held a tissue…even in his weaken state, not that she would attempt to steal it from him, he would _never_ let her get very far with it. The blankie was obviously his and would always remain so. He probably had MI6 agents somewhere whose soul goal in life was to protect Mycroft's blankie at all costs.

"Would you like me to get you some more chicken noodle soup or another cold water bottle?" Molly asked politely.

She had made him some homemade chicken noodle soup earlier and she had carefully watched him making sure he ate every drop.

Mycroft reached over to sip on his big water bottle in question.

"No, I'm good." Mycroft said tiredly before he blew his nose once more. "I think I'm dying…"

Molly nodded slowly, "I spoke to Anthea earlier she has a coffin on standby and I told her to have the group of paid mourners nearby as well. Just to be on the safe side, you know…"

Mycroft gave her a weak half-hearted glare. "It's lovely how you two girls are becoming such good _friends_."

"Yeah, I like her, we have very different personalities yet so do you and I…" Molly informed him with a careless shrug before she placed the cheerfully bright colorful bag on his stomach. "Before you die, I must say…I wish you a happy holiday, Mycroft."

He fervently rubbed his nose with his tissue before carefully took the bag almost as if it might have a bomb in it. He eyed it apprehensively as if deducting everything about it. His brows lowered in confusion as he gently tested the weight, he seemed surprised with how very light it was.

Molly smiled; she seriously doubted he could ever guess what was inside though it looked like Mycroft was attempting to do just that. She wished him luck with that.

He began to cough before looked at her slightly sheepishly, "I didn't get you anything…"

Molly rolled her eyes, "Seriously Mycroft? You have a personal assistant who sends out holiday cards, gift baskets and gift cards…All kinds of things to a whole boat load of people. Do you really think she'd forget your one and only bestie? Really, Mycroft, _really_?" Molly shook her head in total disbelief as she 'tsk, tsked' him. "You should give her a raise she seriously deserves it."

Mycroft quickly blew his nose, before throwing away the tissue. "So…What did she get you with my money and my name?"

Her smile widened even bigger, "Well, your friendship is all I really need but I simply love what you got me. It's perfect! Simply perfect. Thank you by the way. I honestly had no idea you could be so thoughtful and so wonderfully sweet…"

"Are you going to tell me?" Mycroft asked.

Molly shrugged once more, "Seeing that you didn't go out and get it yourself…"

"I'm sick, quite possibly dying even as we speak! _So tell me_." Mycroft actually sounded pathetic as he sniffed.

"Oh, Mycroft! It's an absolutely lovely calendar!"

He blinked, "A calendar? I actually gave you a calendar for Christmas?"

Molly nodded happily. "A lovely calendar, Mycroft, absolutely lovely! All twelve months of the upcoming new year…Each month with a different and overly cute picture…"

"That's all I got you? A calendar? Seriously?" Mycroft seemed totally flabbergasted and stuck on that simple fact making her laugh.

"Anthea asked me what I wanted and I told her that I really wanted the 'Cats in Sweaters' calendar…" Molly informed him as he moaned in what sounded like despair. She continued happily, eyes sparkling with merriment, "It has twelve pictures of the cutest kitties all wearing different sweaters! I wish I could put my beautiful and handsome Toby in a sweater but I fear that he'd put me in the emergency room…"

"I can't believe that my finances now show that I actually bought a 'Cats in Sweaters' calendar." Mycroft said in complete horror and disbelief.

"Yeah, I'm certain that the text Anthea sent me about buying it for me with your card had her in stitches!"

"Molly…" Mycroft winced, he actually winced! "I'm a very rich man, I could have bought you anything…anything at all and instead all I got you—"

"The most adorable calendar in the world! 'Cats in Sweaters' who wouldn't love that!"

"Molly…" He tried to say before he started to attempt to cough up his own lung.

"It's perfect!" Molly insisted before wincing. That cough did sound perfectly horrible. When the coughing stopped she purposely gestured towards the present. "Go on open your gift."

Molly bit her lip nervously. As Mycroft had stated he was a very rich man it wasn't like he needed anything that he couldn't get for herself. Mycroft probably wouldn't even like it. Perhaps he'd end up throwing it away or even recycling it.

At first she had attempted to knit him a scarf yet she couldn't find an elegant enough pattern, color, or even the right yarn. Everything seemed silly until she remembered what she and her brother use to give each other as gifts. They weren't much and he had taught her how to make beautiful things with colorful paper.

Daniel could create all kinds of things. As a child he once made her a castle, a dragon with some knights. He had been a master at origami.

With one of her hands she allowed her fingers to lightly dance upon the pocket that held her brother's small green button.

Oh God, what had she been thinking? Mycroft was going to hate it…

She was so very stupid.

He pulled out the two light boxes. One bigger than the other. Opening the boxes, Mycroft seemed frozen as he studied the items. In one of the longer and a bit bigger box were three human figures made of paper. Each on its own different colored paper horse. They were supposed to be hunters and they could come off of their horses. Near them were two brown hunting dogs. In the smaller box was a small red paper fox, it's head was turned and it's paw lifted and still as if it too was on a hunt, not realizing it was the one being hunted…

Molly had tried so very hard to make all the origami figures truly perfect. Yet, really what the hell do you give to a man like Mycroft Holmes?

Mycroft blinked and with great care took the small red fox out of the box.

"You made all this for me?" He questioned because of his sore throat, his voice was low and scratchy.

Molly nodded. "My brother, Danny he taught me origami…The things he use to be able to make…I will never be as good as him…Yet, I couldn't help but think, gee, I bet Mycroft doesn't have a paper red fox with a paper hunting party after it…Though looking around your home I should have made some armored paper knights. You have them in every single bloody room including your exercise room."

_And __**even**__ in his bedroom._

She looked over to see two shiny metal knights one in each corner. They faced the bed; this made Molly have serious doubts about if Mycroft and she became lovers if she'd ever sleep over in this room. With them simply standing there. Each holding huge swords in front of them. Molly couldn't help but think how seriously creepy that was and why did he need an army of knights here at his estate anyway?

There was even a large elegant dining room that had monstrously huge knights on larger than life armored horses…

Seriously, Molly wondered about Mycroft sometimes. He probably wondered about her too, yet she didn't fill her home with seriously _creepy_ metal knights in shiny armor. How could the man live like this? With them? All creepy and just standing there…Silent witnesses to his incredibly boring life…Just standing there…Perfectly still and silent.

Damn they were _creepy_!

"Thank you." Mycroft broke into her thoughts, forcing her to look away from the overwhelming creepiness standing in the corners of Mycroft's rich and expensive looking bedroom.

He was looking at the red fox from all angles. His eagle sharp eyes missing nothing.

"Really, thank you." Mycroft added once more.

She gave him a soft and tender smile. "You're welcome."

"And to think all I got you was a 'Cat in Sweaters' calendar…" He stated with a sad shake of his head before quickly sitting down the fox to cover his mouth to start coughing once more.

"Why are you stuck on that fact?" Molly asked him once he stopped coughing.

"Because cats wearing sweaters are downright _creepy_!" He answered her quickly before blowing his nose. Mycroft leaned against his soft pillows. "I'm dying…and here we are talking about the creepiest thing on the planet…Though, I'm surprised you are actually spending Christmas with a dying man and I am dying you know…"

Molly rolled her eyes; Sherlock wasn't the only Holmes who played at being a drama queen!

"I'm spending Christmas with a good friend whose company I highly enjoy _and_ who isn't all that bad of a kisser when he's not sick. Plus, I've already been to a few Christmas parties already and even visited a few people…If I wasn't here I'd be at work." She told him almost sadly. "I really don't feel like working today or…or being alone in a quiet morgue. To be honest I'd rather be here with you even if you are sick, miserable and certainly at death's door."

Mycroft sniffed as he carefully picked up his red fox. He actually seemed totally fascinated by it. "May I ask you a question?"

Molly blinked at him before shrugging, "Sure for I seriously doubt I could ever stop any Holmes from asking questions."

"Whenever you talk about your brother…you always touch your pocket. A different pocket at different times, perhaps…but still…May I know why?"

Molly found her fingers sliding into the pocket in question to touch her brother's little green button. She looked down.

She felt tears well up in her eyes. "It's mostly sentiment, Mycroft…"Her voice soft. Danny's face flashed before her. Making her heartache. "I know how you feel about sentiment."

"I…Well, it might be almost impossible for me to do, but I will do my best not to make fun of or…hurt you unnecessarily. It's Christmas so I'll keep my thoughts on how completely stupid sentiment is to myself." Mycroft told her as he gently set the red fox upon his end table. He eyed it for a long moment before looking back at her.

"It's my brother's button…" Molly revealed as she slowly took her fingers out of her pocket to show him the small green button in question. She had never showed it to anyone before. Molly treated the button like a highly classified and valuable secret.

"It's from his shirt…" Molly continued before stopping to swallow hard. "The day he died…You think me stupid don't you?"

"Never." Mycroft tried to tell her, his voice so soft and scratchy she had to strain to hear it. "You proved to me countless times just how smart you are…"

Molly studied him, yet she really wasn't seeing him. Her mind was completely elsewhere, full of past memories.

"I'm not even sure _how_ I ended up with it." Molly told him, her voice husky and soft. "One day Danny and I were racing our bikes. He was winning…and somehow…I…I don't know how exactly but I ended up no longer on my bike but over the handrails…I was okay. Surprised and bruised, my pride a little damaged of course…"

Molly stopped for a moment before she continued, seeing everything in her mind so sharply and clearly. "Danny, he surprisingly raced right back to me. I was already standing back up when he flew off his bike, screaming my name and…and he pushed me as violently as he could. You see, Danny had seen something I hadn't…Perhaps I should have even heard it but…"

She paused for a moment, "There was a car that was out of control…Headed my way. It was learned later that the driver had suffered a massive heart attack…The car hit my brother instead of me. I still remember how broken and…and so very wrong he looked. I honestly thought if I attempted to give him CPR or beat at his chest that…that he'd suddenly be alright once more. I don't remember who pulled me away from him. Could have been a police officer or…I don't really know. The ambulance showed up…But I think he was already…dead. After they left, I was left standing there…all alone and um; I found this button in my blood splattered hand. I knew it was his…So I slid it into my pocket and from that moment on, I've always carried it."

Mycroft leaned towards her and offered her his tissue box. She quickly slid her brother's button back into her pocket before grabbing a few tissues from the box. Honestly surprised to find that tears had been running down her cheeks. Molly wiped them away to give him a weak smile.

"I think…" He began carefully, "That there is a high possibility that I might have liked your brother if he had lived. I'm not overly fond of people but…there is a chance, however small that…I would have…perhaps respected him."

Molly knew that was the highest compliment that he was capable of and she was truly touched by it.

Mycroft continued carelessly and a bit darkly, "All I know is that he sounds much better than that other damn brother of mine."

He blew his nose with great force as Molly offended on Sherlock's behalf, gave him a scolding. "Mycroft Holmes! How dare you speak of Sherlock that way!"

"I'm not talking about Sherlock." He muttered gloomy throwing away the tissue with a weak sniffle. "I'm talking about _the other one_. Sherlock, my dear wonderful brother, hates him with a fiery passion that goes quite deep. Many a family dinners have been completely ruined when those two get together. They broke Mummy's window the last time we attempted such a ghastly family party. Sherlock refuses to ever speak his name or even text it. He's simply known as _the other one_ or _that damn prick who needs to die a violent death_."

Molly found herself truly stunned. "You and Sherlock…have _another_ brother?"

Mycroft slowly nodded as if that action hurt his head greatly.

"So there is _another_ Holmes out there..."Molly said with wide-eyed wonder. Still quite stunned. She had honestly thought that the world was already much too small for the two Holmes brothers that she knew existed but there being a _third_? Oh God, what if that had that been one of the signs of the coming apocalypse?

Mycroft sighed heavily and wiped at his sore looking nose. "My father never married _that woman_. He is my _half_ brother, you see. A true bastard as it were…"

"Oh, my goodness! Your father cheated on your dear sweet mum?"

Mycroft rolled his eyes, he coughed before speaking. "Of course not!"

"Well…Explain! Now!" Molly ordered.

"Fine!" Mycroft groaned in misery. "My father decided one day that it was time to get married. He didn't love her, _that woman_, he wasn't sure love even existed you see. Yet, he liked her well enough and he says she had some nice legs on her. He really simply wanted to settle down. Have a family. Have a little woman to come home to. Maybe not be so lonely anymore. A week or two before the big wedding his car breaks down on a long stretch of not very busy country road. The only thing around was livestock. My dad knows nothing about cars. So he sits there and waits. Hoping someone will stop and help him…Maybe even give him a lift into town. This was before phones were always carried on a person…So there he was…A nice early morning. All alone and waiting…"

Mycroft huffed before blowing his nose once more. "Daddy when telling the story says that at some point a vision of great beauty came riding on a cute bright red bicycle. She stopped and actually fixed his car. Unlike him she knew a lot about them. They laughed and had a very long conversation that she took control of. She even shared half of her sandwich with him. He thought she was the sexiest and the most beautiful woman he'd ever met. She was so very different from what he was use to. They talked about math. She is quite brilliant in that field. He found her mind and body to be…Well, he was more than charmed of course."

Mycroft stopped to take a long drink from his cool water bottle. As he screwed back on the lid he continued, "My father likes to pretend that he's not very smart. That he's the _normal_ one in their relationship. Sure, perhaps he is at times normal but he's no idiot. Mum liked him instantly. Most men…Well…Mum can talk someone's ear off about anything and everything. Especially her favorite topics. Math being one of them. A passion for her…But um…most men especially the ones in town thought her a freak. She is a bit ordinary at times, not all the time, mind you. My father calls her the most rare and exotic of all women. I will confess that some of Sherlock's traits he gets from her and I'm not talking about the fact that they both keep their collars turned up on their black coats."

Molly hadn't known mother and son both did that but she felt certain she'd absolutely love the woman Mycroft was describing as well as his father…They both sounded so delightful.

"Daddy says that he can never say no to mummy." Mycroft still continued after having another coughing fit. "…and it's quite true. Mummy says that she had never met a man who seemed to accept her exactly as she was. He didn't want her to play dumb or pretend to be someone else like her family kept insisting on. My mum is no slut, mind you, she never slept around but she claimed that daddy is and was totally irresistible and she wanted him… I believe I have stated before about my parents simply horrid active sex life and how to this very day they refuse to give up such madness, correct?"

Molly tried not to laugh. "You may have said something to that effect before, yes."

Mycroft nodded tiredly, his voice seemed to get scratcher. "Even back then they were pretty active at it. Well, my father called off the wedding to _that woman_ never knowing that she was already in the early stages of pregnancy. However he quickly married my mummy for he says that he feared that some other sod would end up running away with her. He knew a true diamond from a false one. Though I find it quite silly for all the other men around called mummy, 'that freak' so I don't think he had anything to worry about…Well, anyway it wasn't until months later that…_that woman_ came to my father and told him that he was a brand new daddy. Of course, he happily accepted his new born son with open arms. My mum as well accepted my ghastly brother. She was already pregnant with me and she trusted quite strongly who daddy's heart belonged. Even though _that woman_ would try to create trouble for them every now and then…Forcing Sherlock to be quite cruel to her…However that's another story. Anyway Mummy is indeed a highly intelligent woman and knew daddy would never stray. Daddy tried to be a good father to my half brother. Through _the other one_ has always felt we had more of Daddy's time and attention. It's true, yes, but then Sherlock and I _lived_ with our father whereas my half brother lived with _that woman_."

"Oh…Are you close to this half brother of yours?" Molly found herself asking curiously.

"Oh, God, no! He's a total prick! You know how I keep files on people?" Mycroft waited for her to nod before continuing, "His file is in the stack of people willing to be sacrificed for the better good. Mostly, the better good of Sherlock and I's sanity."

Molly wasn't sure if Mycroft was joking or not but then she knew for a fact that he was in no way a comedian.

Mycroft coughed as he leaned over to the other side of the bed to set the box of origami hunting party on the other end of the table. As far from his paper red fox as it could be.

"What are you not going to take them out of the box like you did with the fox?" Molly asked.

Mycroft actually eyed her in disbelief. "It's Christmas! No red fox of mine is going to be hunted on Christmas!"

She was completely charmed, Molly gently patted his knee.

"Merry Christmas, Mycroft Holmes." She told him with a completely warm and happy heart.

Mycroft blew his nose quite nosily once more before wishing her the same… "Even if the Christmas holiday is quite stupid…with all the noise and people expecting things…the silly parties…Do you realize that there are some people out there that actually think I should be cheerful about the whole damn bloody thing…," he miserably informed her.

She nearly expected him to end the sentence with 'bah humbug!'

Later as Molly gave him some medicine and watched him nap she couldn't help but think, good or bad this holiday was actually one of the best she'd ever had.

~*~END OF PART 12~*~


	13. Chapter 13

Thanks again Cornishrexmomma, I'm so glad I could make you laugh…And to the wonderful WhiffyBee I'm do delighted that I could make you happy, you both make me smile and determined to write more.

Also, Amanda Do'Urden I do hope you continue to enjoy, thanks so much for the review...

Now this part my dear readers may not be your favorite, or even be all that good to be totally honest. If only I was a better writer maybe it could be good but alas…Just remember I'm not forcing you to read this!

However, this part is quite necessary to what will happen in upcoming chapters and because as a reader I love it when either one of the Holmes' boys especially the wonderful 'ice man' Mycroft gets a huge ass wakeup call…

_This moment just __**had**__ to happen._

Well anyway, this part is a bit…well intense…though I still hope you enjoy and that your delightful curiosity will keep you reading…And that old saying about curiosity killing that poor sweet cat well at least no cats are/where harmed in writing of this!

* * *

~*~PART 13~*~

'…_I am sorry to make you the victim of what may seem a mere whim, but on my life, Watson, I simply can't leave that case in this condition. Every instinct that I possess cries out against it. It's wrong-all wrong-I'll swear it's wrong!'_

The Abbey Grange by Arthur Conan Doyle

'…_Heaven will not let such wickedness endure.'_

The Abbey Grange by Arthur Conan Doyle

* * *

The next few months seemed to be speeding by and Molly found herself to be quite busy and Mycroft seemed to be in the same damn boat right along with her. However they did see each other whenever possible.

So it didn't bother her at all those certain times when Mycroft would leave the country for a few days for she did as always have bodies to work on. Death came to everyone so she knew that she had job security.

Lately, some of the bodies were of young women that London's most recent serial killer was sending her way. He was still out there, on the hunt, murdering all those poor women with some sick pleasure that Molly found revolting.

Greg, he was starting to take the murders personally. More and more as time went by he was becoming bear like and kicking tires out in the hospital's car park. Also from the heavy smell of cigarette smoke upon him, Molly knew that he had taken up that dreadful habit once more.

Quite recently while the latest victim rested upon her table and as Greg studied the body, he ended up telling her how if Sherlock had been alive the great consulting detective would have already solved these killings and Scotland Yard would have this sick bastard in custody at this very moment…Instead…Damn that bloody sod…Greg's eyes as he said the last line were filled with sadness and regret. Sherlock may have driven him crazy but it had been a fun crazy…A crazy that seemed to work somehow and Greg missed those times and the annoying man so very much.

And all Molly could do was remind him that he was one of the best Scotland Yard had and that he _would_ indeed find this monster. Just because he no longer had Sherlock Holmes to help him solve cases didn't mean they wouldn't get this man. Molly had great faith in that steadfast fact.

So, yes Greg would get his man. Though Molly preferred to think of the serial killer as a monster instead of a man. She had once made mention of this monster to Mycroft and though he didn't care, she did. This beast would break into young women's homes…Homes where they could feel safe and comfortable. He'd use a stun gun on them and while they lay stunned…

A true nightmare would start for the poor women. Molly had worked on so many bodies, too many really. Molly wanted the monster stopped and to be honest she too had moments of wishing Sherlock was there to solve the murders. He always enjoyed a good serial killing; he claimed they were _**never**_ dull.

The things that S.O.B. did before he murdered them were so cold and sadistic. The brutality of man could be so horrible at times.

If she were a fragile woman, Molly would seriously never leave her flat, where she would always carry and sleep with a sharpen knife under her pillow.

The total ass wipe seemed to be killing more and more women and Molly knew with certainty that any day now there would be another of his savagely tortured to death victims lying upon her slab down here in her morgue.

Molly closed her eyes wearily…With how horrible her thoughts were she needed just a moment…A moment with her bestie. It should bother her how much she looked forward to seeing him and talking to him but in all honestly it didn't.

Molly took out her phone and hit his number. After a few rings Mycroft answered, his voice calm and cool becoming a soothing balm to her very soul. "Hello, Molly…"

"Hello, Mycroft." She said with a tired yet happy smile.

"I was about to call you…" He informed her.

"Looks like I won. Called you first." She almost sang…

Molly could actually_ feel_ his eye roll, causing her giggle.

"Yes, Molly, lucky you…You do know how to win oh so gracefully." Mycroft stated quite dryly.

"So are we still on for pizza and chess tonight?" Molly asked.

"Actually, that's why I was about to call you." Mycroft at least tried to sound regretful so that was something.

Molly's sweet smile faded away. She understood, of course. Mycroft Holmes was always going to be an extremely busy man and with his very powerful position…so not a minor one…came with countless responsibilities.

"Well…some other time then unless you're afraid I'll finally win at chess with you."

Mycroft snorted…actually snorted!

"Right…," Mycroft drew out the word slowly and with great sarcasm. "Like that would_ ever_ happen."

"Never say never, Mycroft." Molly warned, "You honestly believed I'd never win at 'hide and seek' and yet_ I did_." She said the last part just to annoy the hell out him.

Mycroft sighed. "Quite right and to be perfectly honest I actually live in fear of that day _ever_ happening. For I know at that exact moment all of humanity and England will be _**doomed**_!"

"Drama queen." Molly muttered into her phone.

"Am not!" Mycroft sounded highly offended.

"Right." Molly said slowly with great doubt.

Mycroft sighed once more before telling her seriously, "It seems we won't be 'hanging out' for at least three weeks. To be more precise, it will be the twenty-third. About five eighteen p.m. So do jolt it down in your planner…"

"Gee, Mycroft it sounds as if you are making an appointment with me!" Molly found herself saying in complete surprise.

There was a long moment of silence before Mycroft finally spoke. "What, besties don't do that?"

Molly laughed at his innocent question and quite apparent confusion. For someone who claimed to be so bloody smart, he was delightfully charmingly ignorant of certain things. He was in no way as bad as his little brother. Mycroft, unlike Sherlock, knew that the earth went around the sun and what celebrity was shagging who…Yet there were some things that seemed to honestly confound him. Molly knew that he tried so very hard not to reveal that side of himself to others…

She wondered what Mycroft will do when their wonderful experiment was over and she was left with the knowledge of the_** real**_ Mycroft Holmes. The one he has trusted only her enough to see. The most classified secret that he has was 'the ice man' wasn't all that cold or at least not as cold as he attempted to make the whole world believe.

He cared deeply for his parents and his younger brother and then there was his love for England. Oh, if he could ever love a woman that much she would be the luckiest bitch on the whole bloody planet!

Molly knew her feelings towards him were changing into a deep love. There wasn't much she could do about it; all she could really do was accept that fact. Which she did.

She also knew sadly that he would never love her back.

How could such a logical man like Mycroft Holmes ever develop deep feelings for her? She wasn't all that special; to get that man's heart she'd have to be…not Molly Hooper.

Her crush on Sherlock never went anywhere. Though seeing how she was falling deeply for his older brother that was a good thing. Otherwise things would be quite awkward the day Sherlock returned. At least it would be for her anyway. Sherlock wouldn't have cared at all, even if that silly crush had gone somewhere.

Too bad she wasn't special enough to win Mycroft's heart. Molly knew that what she felt for Mycroft was so much more than she had ever felt for Sherlock. Deep and true… and so much more beautiful and precious.

The thing is she knew they had a short time together and one day Sherlock would return…

Whatever Mycroft and she had would be over. Though she still hoped they would still remain quite good friends. Always besties…

If they did stop being friends altogether…well…At least she would have wonderful good memories to take with her. Molly's broken heart would always heal. There was no way in hell she'd become as bitter as her great aunt Agatha….

Life would go on, and then maybe one day, she'd find someone. Possibly though good friends and then she'd settle down and have her long time dream of becoming a wife and a mother. Unlike Mycroft who seemed destined to grow old and live in a huge mansion all alone…

Molly had a big heart and just because she loved Mycroft it didn't mean her heart didn't have room to love another. It wouldn't be the same as loving him, of course, but she would indeed live her life. A life full of a loving husband and a couple of children that she'd die and live for…And while she had that, she hoped Mycroft wouldn't be lonely and that he too would know true happiness…Maybe even know just how wonderful love could be…

One day anyway…

For now, she was going to truly enjoy Mycroft's company and relish their make out sessions. They weren't lovers yet but Molly knew with great certainty that it was only a matter of time. She refused to be the type of woman who simply opened her legs all willy-nilly…or have Mycroft cry rape later.

Seriously he was such a delicate man sometimes…

Still she bought some naughty rainbow colored condoms…Each one a different bright color…fun colors for fun! She was ever so eternally hopeful to use them before the expiration date expires on them…or Sherlock comes home.

"No, Mycroft, besties don't schedule time together for weeks in advance like one does when they visit the hair stylist, dentist for a cleaning or some other professional…"

"Oh. Well there's some very important…things that have come up. Certain things that simply _must_ be done." Mycroft told her.

"I understand." And she did, she really did. Molly had a strong feeling he was leaving the country once more. Perhaps going to Korea, China or somewhere that the world news had been talking about for days on end…boring things as of late. Molly would miss him.

"For the good of England," Molly continued softly. "Will you do something for me, Mycroft?"

Mycroft sighed before stating sternly, "I am_** not**_ bringing you back a tacky T-shirt. I already did that once and I refuse to do that again."

He just confirmed that he was indeed leaving the country on his private jet. She once asked him to bring her back a tacky t-shirt as a joke the first time she realized he was going to another country. Molly hadn't known exactly where he had gone but he found her an 'I hate New York' t-shirt. She wasn't even sure where in the hell he found it but she refused to wear it outside her flat and only used it as a night shirt. With her luck a New Yorker would be visiting London and bash her head in or something…

"Aww, how sad but that isn't what I want from you, Mycroft." Molly said her voice still quite soft.

"So…Tell me what you want, Molly and I'll see what I can do." Mycroft told her, his voice now low…

"All I want is for you to come back home safely, Mycroft…Promise me."

There was a long moment of stunned silence.

"Of course, Molly. I'll come home, all safe and sound…I promise." Mycroft's tone sounded thick.

Knowing he'd keep his word she felt a calming peace settle over her.

They said their goodbyes and she went back to work. For a couple of more hours she worked in the lab and then dealt with a few more bodies. One was an elderly woman who died of natural causes. Another was a child who had lost he's battle with cancer. Then a teenager had decided to hang himself.

When Molly finally left Bart's she was so very exhausted that in some small way she was thankful Mycroft had canceled on her. All she wanted to do was get into her pink colorful ice cream cone patterned pajamas and her comfy kitty slippers. Maybe for dinner she'd go crazy and just eat a pint of her favorite chocolate ice cream while she and Toby lay upon the sofa to worship in front of the telly.

Her sore, tired feet seemed to move slowly towards her door, even with the night's plans firmly in place within her mind. She still moved sluggishly knowing there was a strong chance she'd end up sleeping on her sofa tonight. It wasn't the first time she'd done that and Molly was sure it wouldn't be the last. When she finally made it to her flat's door she opened it and stepping into the familiar surroundings she shut it behind her, locking it and chaining it before she walked a few steps in…

Toby was suddenly heard giving her an intense warning with a long deep growl before he hissed loudly. Trusting her little brave hero that someone he didn't like had dared to be in his territory…she grabbed the closest thing that she could use as a weapon. Molly didn't have much time as she heard a strange clicking…

Something was charging and Molly knew she didn't have much time…It was a stun gun…She thought, unsure if that was indeed what that was, but she didn't dare let it or her attacker touch her.

With her favorite kitty looking biscuit jar in her hands she aimed it and smashed it into what she was certain was her would be attacker. It might have been her favorite and cute jar but sometimes sadly sacrifices must be made. Her aim must have been true for with a crash and a painful grunt filled her dark flat, confirming her suspicions.

Molly turned sharply around, leaped towards her door and tried to frantically yank out her chain and turn her door knob. She only knew that she had to escape…

Her flat's door barley opened perhaps an inch…She felt certain that she was close to freedom. Molly opened her mouth to scream as loud as she could but her breath was taken violently from her as she was pressed forcefully against the door, slamming it closed once more.

Once more, Molly found it impossible to try to scream. Not because of the overwhelming fear she felt, no, it was because at the moment she was unable to breathe. For it wasn't just the fact that someone held her prisoner against the one thing that could lead her to freedom but there was a strong hand fastened around her throat with a grip much like a cold metal vice.

Molly knew instantly that this total arse hole was strong but her will to survive was even stronger.

A memory flashed of Greg attempting to teach her something very important…Something to be honest, Molly hadn't paid close attention too. For she was simply a boring pathologist, surly she'd never need to know that kind of stuff…

Yet, her foot moved back to stomp hard on her attacker's own foot and she put as much force as she could to jamb behind her with her elbow.

He cursed, flinching slightly away, his hand losing around her throat. She decided to jerk her head violently back, hoping that maybe she'd make contact with his nose. She was hopeful anyway…She knew she hit him just not his nose, sadly. Her hand quickly reached into her pocket, and pressed a random button on her phone. Molly didn't have time to dial 999…

Molly thought she'd hit redial…She wasn't sure but she thought she did…Molly clearly remembered having called Mycroft earlier but she had also talked to Greg a good hour later…At the present she couldn't recall who called who…

If it was indeed Mycroft, he'd never be able to help her. He was already on his jet going to some where possibly dangerous and doing something incredibly important and quite boring. There was a strong chance he'd never answer…Even if they were besties, he was a busy man and he'd probably think it best to call her back later…Not knowing that her life was in danger right at this very moment.

Whereas Greg, he'd have himself and the police at her door in over eight minutes…

Hopefully she could survive for over eight bloody minutes.

Molly hoped she like hell that she'd get Greg. That's if he picked up right away and didn't let it go to voice mail.

Though if that did happen…

Her murder would be recorded. Though she hadn't been murdered yet! Molly wanted to live and would do everything in her power to do so.

Everything was happening so very fast.

The next thing Molly knew was she was forced away from the door and punched hard in the face. Searing pain overwhelmed her as she fell.

Molly screamed for help as loudly as she could and her attacker kicked her savagely.

She vaguely heard something coming from her phone yet it had fallen from her fingers. Molly feared that the call hadn't reached anyone. What if it had been turned off…What if…

Oh, God what if…

"I'm going to enjoy killing you…" The serial killer crooned at her creepily before kicking her once more.

The pain was intense, a horrible sea that she was floating in.

Pictures of all the women he'd killed that she had worked on moved like flash cards inside her head.

They had all been on her table because of him…

For a brief moment she suddenly saw herself on her metal table at Bart's. Then there was Sherlock standing over her and looking down. His gaze studied her with cold and sharp knowing eyes.

"_You are no victim, Molly Hooper. The game is on and this is a game you __**must**__ win…Your very life depends on it." _

The moment faded but Sherlock's words seemed to echo deep within her.

Adrenaline and intense fear made Molly move. She was very determined that she would win this game. If she could beat Mycroft at silly board games and 'hide and seek' then surly she could beat this ass wipe.

And if this bastard did win at least Greg would know she gave him one hell of a fight. Molly would get his DNA in her short nails as she racked his face and on her teeth as she bit him…

The second she was up, Molly leaped at him, perhaps even taking him by surprise.

She slugged him as hard as she could causing her fist to hurt. Her attacker, however, was a big man and his fist was much more powerful than her small fist and he proved it was his fist smashed brutally into her right eye. Molly literally saw bright stars and darkness seemed to rush at her, ready and needing to overtake her.

Yet, Molly couldn't allow that to happen. She wouldn't allow that to happen! She wanted to live damn it!

She wildly slapped and kicked him in return more than once.

Another strong hit from him and down Molly went smashing into her own coffee table, breaking it into pieces. God, if she survived she was going to be a living and walking bruise for quite awhile.

"_Don't be stupid there is no__** if**__, you'll survive_…" Molly heard Sherlock voice in her head as if he belonged there. She didn't think that was normal but it seemed to give her even more determination. The great consulting detective continued_, "Now, why don't you use some of that broken wood and bash his blasted stupid skull in…THAT'S A GIRL! Remember, he's not afraid to hurt you so don't be afraid to hurt him in return…"_

The horrid man kicked at her once more before reaching out and wrenching the broken coffee table's leg from her hand and Molly franticly moved…Scrambling on all fours as she tried to get away.

Unexpectedly the ass hole caught her ankle and dragged her back towards him.

DAMN IT!

He flipped her over so hard that it literally drove the air from her lungs, cutting off her screams. Molly also felt something sharp and jagged slice into the side, causing her to bleed.

Her hand reached for it, slicing the hand open as well. A large piece of her broken biscuit kitty container.

Molly grabbed it and yanked it out of her side, not caring about any damage she may have caused to herself. Pain sharp and clear raced through her.

Molly's breath froze momentarily as her attacker came down on her striking her repeatedly.

"You damn bitch!" He rasped his tone full of sadistic hate.

Molly felt dizzy and knew there was a strong chance that she wouldn't remain conscious for long…A _very_ strong chance.

Taking the blooded and jagged piece of porcelain she began to violently stab at him. Molly felt certain that she hurt him just as good as he was hurting her but she wasn't positive about it. All Molly could tell was that he suddenly gasped in agony and moved away slightly. Before coming right back at her.

This madness had to stop, hopefully not with her death.

Molly could still see herself clearly upon her metal table in the morgue at Bart's. She wore no clothes and was waiting patiently for someone to come in and do her autopsy.

She wasn't ready to die, damn it, she wasn't it!

Fast moving flashes of Mycroft suddenly moved through her mind. The time he broke into her flat. Telling how stupid she was. Her telling him how she knew he was jealous over what Sherlock had. Loyalty…he had loyalty for free. Mycroft looking so very human as he quietly left actually allowing her the last word…Him always rolling his eyes at her constant teasing…Trying to look 'casual' and not like a butler…Telling her they would be friends almost as if she had no choice in the matter…Playing games together… The first time Mycroft actually laughed and not sounding rusty about it…The first time she touched his arm and his didn't flinch away from her touch…Their first kiss upon her dirty kitchen floor. Walking in St. James's park…His pout at her wining 'hide and seek'…Noticing that she hadn't seen the arctic in his eyes for quite a long time, they almost seemed…warm towards her.

"_You proved to me countless times just how smart you really are…"_Mycroft's voice was heard to say in head.

She had to live!

Molly still needed to prove to him that friendship did indeed matter. That there was strength to be found in them. Caring and sentiment weren't so bad, in fact the world could use more caring. If one could only see the world as human beings and not chess pieces…

If she died how could she prove him wrong? She loved proving Mycroft wrong! Having a friend wasn't a bad thing at all. Caring and sentiment was not on the losing side nor was it complete foolishness…

Friendship could be something beautiful.

Caring about people and getting involved in their lives…

How could that be bad? Molly knew for certain that it wasn't evil. How could it be?

Yes, when you lose the one you care about the pain is there. Perhaps it will always be but…The time they were in one's life, shouldn't that be treasured?

Plus, what about those rainbow condoms? True, Molly was thinking about odd things while she fought for her life…Yet, still she had seriously been looking forward to using them upon her new lover.

Her last lover had been complete rubbish, not noticing that the moans she made was because his wristband to his watch got tangled in her hair…_**NOT**_ out of desire.

Molly had a strong feeling that Mycroft, though he'd perhaps be a very safe and vanilla lover…he could even be completely Victorian about the whole act of sex…She was actually very comfortable about the whole thing because no matter how vanilla he was she was sure that he'd make damn sure she left his bed totally satisfied in every way. Good thing she enjoyed and liked vanilla and she really was curious to see if she was correct.

And she had been seriously looking forward to that!

And this…this was so very wrong…

Her attacker smashed down her hand upon her floor, the one with the jagged porcelain…Which seemed to have dug itself deeper into her hand than before…biting and cutting into such a delicate hand much too savagely…

Molly wasn't sure if it was her imagination but she vaguely heard something coming from outside her building. It was loud and determined…The sound was strange…Almost like a small army and it seemed to be…Entering her building? Bright lights came from outside…Or was this all in her head…For she had seen and heard Sherlock moments before…

All she truly knew, oddly enough, was that her attacker seemed a bit weaker than before…

He still cursed obscenely at her…One hand holding her wrist captive that held her make shift weapon and another was now at her throat. So deadly tight…Choking her…She tried desperately to kick at him and buck him off of her…

Molly was feeling weaker now…so much weaker…

Her attacker was going to win this game…

Yet, she still had hope…

As long as she was conscious he would never take that away from her.

Molly's free hand, instead of clutching at the hand so brutally tight around her neck…She frantically felt around the floor near her…

She had to live.

Please, God, please…

She didn't want to die.

Molly felt and found a piece of long broken wood from her coffee table and hit him with it. Hoping like hell that she was aiming at the side of his head and with an ominous crack he fell away from her…

But for how long? God, he could continue this nightmare at any moment…

Any moment…

Molly found she could no longer move. Darkness with its great resolution came rushing at her. It was trying to do something that she didn't want to do…

"Please…I can't die…I can't…Please…" Molly said weakly and in a daze. "I want to live…"

Somewhere the noise, it came from her building now…Growing louder, even more determined.

Then there was her phone…Sound was coming from that as well…Small but she dimly heard it. She thought it might be close by yet Molly knew she had lost it during the fight.

Something extremely important was being said…

She heard her name…From the phone…It seemed to demand her attention…yet, she was fading away…

The voice coming from it…Maybe, just maybe she'd be alright.

Except how could a voice help her, how could it save her?

Molly had attempted to save herself and she had fought with everything she had…

She wanted to live. _Needed_ to live.

The man who attacked her could still be alive and well…He could still hurt her and kill her. Though he could also be unconscious or even dazed and was about to finish what he had started.

Molly knew damn well what he had done to other women and she didn't want that for herself.

Noise came from her phone. She honestly couldn't hear the exact words but there was something about it…

A soothing balm…

She had to survive, she simply had too…

Molly didn't want the darkness to overtake her not when there was such a strong chance that she still needed to fight for her life.

God please…

Still a soothing balm was telling her something important…very important…

"Mycroft…" Molly breathed and sadly with that the overbearing darkness finally forced her into its fearful embrace…

Making her thoughts and her will to stay awake…to fight, to survive... drift away…

into complete…

Nothingness.

~*~END OF PART 13~*~

* * *

I know…

Damn, shame about that cookie jar.

Oh.

Not Good?

Well, okay, maybe I should just go write the next chapter…

Hmmm?


	14. Chapter 14

Cornishrexmomma, you are always so encouraging and lovely, thank you. Jenny W and Wink thank you so much for taking the time to review and share your lovely thoughts. You are awesome!

* * *

~*~PART 14~*~

'_My house is lonely.'_

-The Lion's Mane by Arthur Conan Doyle

'_We can talk it over more comfortably at home, said he. 'I am not a very good man Effie, but I think that I am a better one then you have given me credit for being.'_

_-_The Yellow Face by Arthur Conan Doyle

* * *

Molly slowly emerged from the harsh stark darkness…

Though she did leave her eyes closed for a time, not really ready to see what she knew would be a warm blinding light. Something instantly told her that she would be in a lot more pain if it wasn't, at the time, being dulled by pain killers. It was still there, the echo of it, as if the pain somehow knew that all it needed to do was wait…and then…Oh, then the delightful medicine would wear off and Molly knew that she was going to be in a world of horrible pain…

She was alive, Molly feeling thankful, slowly took a deep breath and released it slowly as if making certain of that fact.

Oddly, enough she didn't smell the normal hospital smells that she was so very use too…

"Molly…" A familiar soothing palm,_** her**_ soothing palm, spoke to her and touched her very heart and soul. "You are safe now…Open your eyes for me."

She moaned softly and then carefully, so very slowly opened her eyes as ordered or at least tried too, one of them she couldn't see out of very well. For one eye seemed to be swollen closed because of a brutal hard punch to the face.

"Mycroft…" She breathed and from her good eye, watched him give her a slight, sideways smile. His eyes seemed…almost gentle and filled with…a sweet warmth that touched her very soul…and…and was that concern within those depths? Concern for her?

"You will never believe that night I had…" Molly informed him, her voice was husky and still feeling raw from her near strangulation. Plus, her throat felt incredibly dry and sore as if heavily bruised…

"Oh, trust me, I'll believe it." He told her, something raw in his tone before her cleared his throat.

He leaned towards an end table and poured some cold water from a pitcher into a small glass. He tossed in a bright colored bendy straw into it as well and shoved it in her face.

Molly quickly took the straw with her lips and swallowed some lovely, refreshing and much needed water.

With her good eye she looked about before she stopped her sips and leaned back into her hospital bed and quite soft pillows and watched Mycroft set the glass off to the side. As he did so she suddenly focused to take a lengthy inventory of her bandaged, battered and quite bruised body…

She may actually be in a hospital bed, covered in sore terrible bruises and her hand as well as her side had a thick bandage that she suspected for the moment covered some stitches. Molly even had an IV and if she wasn't mistaken there at the foot of the bed was her medical chart. The odd thing was this was in no way a hospital room. Her surroundings were much too elegant and expensive for it to _ever_ be in a hospital…

If she was correct and the fact that off in a far corner stood a creepy ass knight in armor that was silently watching her…That was a pretty big clue that she was at Mycroft's.

It was one of Mycroft's rooms at his estate. Of course, the room was so beautiful in its lovely creams and rich deep burgundy. The furniture went well as the wood was stained into a dark brown…Really it was a truly wonderful room, one she'd almost expect to see in a well to do magazine…The only thing out of place was the hospital bed and perhaps to be completely honest she too was completely out of place as well.

Though personally the room would have been much lovelier and better looking if it didn't have that blasted creepy knight in the corner…Seriously, she sometimes wondered about Mycroft Holmes. Why did he like armored knights so damn much? Was it a strange obsession, or something in his subconscious that was trying to find a way to over compensation for something he found missing inside himself…

"Even though I work in one, I truly hate hospitals…" Molly informed him carefully, before questioning him, "Yet, shouldn't I be in one?"

Mycroft studied her and placed his fingertips together almost under his chin, as if suddenly in deep thought. Molly had witnessed Sherlock do that himself a time or two. It was interesting how when she studied Mycroft, she always seemed to find instant reminders that Sherlock and he were definitely brothers.

He slowly moved his fingers away from his chin and it was then that she noticed just how tired he looked. She also could plainly see that he didn't look as calm, collected and so elegantly put together as he normally did. There were dark circles under his eyes as if he hadn't been sleeping and his clothes didn't seem so pressed and fresh. In fact Molly had never witnessed him in wrinkled clothes before. His sleeves were even rolled up, which she had witnessed before…Also, one of his many countless expensive and various ties were nowhere in sight.

"I hate hospitals too. All those sick people and all that noise and even more people making fools of themselves…Then you have all those germs and doctors that believe they know everything!" Mycroft told her in great disdain.

His disdain made her smile even though she hurt; Molly still had questions…Okay, a lot of questions…

"So…" Molly found herself asking weakly, "Because you hate hospitals and instead of coming to visit me there, you decided to bring me here…Interesting, if not a bit odd but still interesting…"

A small smile flashed across his face, "Well as you know I'm a very busy man…So, why not bring my bestie here to see me, as well as the best team of doctors and nurses a man in my position can receive?"

Molly would have rolled her eyes if she didn't fear that the energy to do so would make her feel worse and much weaker than she already felt.

"Actually…" Mycroft seemed to suddenly turn serious, "I thought it might be safer to turn one of my rooms into a make shift hospital room and afterwards we'll bring back the original bed and other things…"

"WAIT!" Fear flooded over Molly, "Safer? D-Did the serial killer escape?"

Visions of the monster coming after her and Molly having to fight for her life once more…And, of course, Molly would indeed fight, she just didn't want to spend her whole life jumping at every sound and flinching at the shadows, wondering when the next attack would be.

"No, he didn't escape. My people have him locked up nice and tight. You did one hell of a job in fighting him." Mycroft informed her quickly as if he hadn't meant to fill her with a horrible, terrible fear…"Molly, I told you that you are completely safe now and I meant it. I didn't lie to you, never about your safety."

"Then why…" Molly asked feeling confused, if she was really _safe_ than why did he feel the need to make her_ safer_?

Mycroft looked away and oddly enough there was a long, awkward pause were he actually looked uncomfortable…Mycroft Holmes didn't do 'uncomfortable' well at all, at least she had never known him to be that…He was always in control, yes, uncomfortable, no.

He suddenly jerked out of his chair to pace the room. All Molly could do was watch him and wonder what crazy mental battle the powerful and normally calm in any storm Mycroft 'the ice man' Holmes was truly fighting within himself.

Mycroft came to a quick stop at the foot of her bed and he slid his hands into his trousers' pockets.

"Your call worried me greatly…" He seemed to finally admit to her softly, "I…I didn't like it at all. I just want to make sure you are protected and stay safe. Molly, there is a reason why I don't like getting involved in people's lives. There is a reason why I don't have friends…"

"Yet, here I am, Mycroft your one and only bestie…" Molly carefully reminded him.

Mycroft nodded slowly and for a moment he seemed lost in his own thoughts.

"I find that I'm always concerned over Sherlock…Will the overwhelming drive to solve a case no matter what the cost be the end of my dear brother or will it be a needle in his arm while he lays in some filthy drug den? Now I find myself concerned about someone else. This person doesn't do drugs and they don't go looking for a deadly battle to fight in hopes of finding a much greater high…or even some dragon to slay or solve…Yet, Molly, trouble seems to find you, doesn't it? My brother, I learned a long time ago doesn't want my type of protection…But hopefully you…"

Mycroft stopped his words for a second, truly focused completely upon her before he continued much more firmly, "I'm not keeping you safe for _you_ but for _myself_."

"Oh…" Molly responded with a whisper.

"I may have went a little overboard, I will admit that, but you see I can be a selfish man and…and this is the type of man I am when I receive a call…that makes me…feel things that I don't normally feel and I don't like it at all. None of it…and now I need to try to keep you safe while I…understand some things in a much clearer light."

"I'm sorry, Mycroft really I..." Molly still spoke softly, "I wasn't even sure who I was calling you see…and…I wasn't sure it was you that I had called. For if it was I wasn't even sure how you could have helped me. I still don't know how you helped in the end, I just know that you did…help, somehow…I'm alive and I'm safe because you did help me when it mattered most. I don't know how but I know that you did and I'm thankful…"

Molly's voice faded away at the stunningly open vulnerability in Mycroft's eyes that seemed to tightly squeeze her heart. Molly instantly understood. Mycroft ignored and hated 'emotions' as well as 'sentiment'…

He always seemed to coldly battle with emotions, determined to win some kind of war over them, whereas she always welcomed them with an open heart, be them good or bad. Feelings and sentiment was what made one completely human…and he was completely, a hundred percent human…A man with a heart, one who does his damnest to hide it as if it was a shameful secret, but he did indeed have one.

Mycroft Holmes may never love her yet he did _care_ and cared with all his heart. Surely that meant something!

Mycroft may have never meant to care for her but he had ended up caring…

For some reason what had happened to her, the near death experience had scared him greatly. Scared the supposedly emotionless 'ice man'…

So much so that at the moment he felt an overwhelming need to 'keep her safe' so to speak…Because for now _she_ mattered and for his own peace of mind, his own sanity, he thought she was safer in his own estate, that perhaps had the world's best security system. For this place was his home, where he lived and many times worked when he wasn't at the Diogenes Club…Also, she highly suspected that pretty much all of his staff were retired or semi-retired former well-trained agents or something else that was quite dangerous. Even his nice, sweet housekeeper who Molly had talked to more than once, gave off the feeling that you didn't want to meet the woman in a dark alley somewhere…and Molly suspected the kind grey haired lady had more than one weapon hidden upon that big cuddly looking body of hers.

So, it looked like Mycroft wanted her where he could make damn sure she was safe and for some reason he didn't find hospital's very safe.

Something told her there was a story behind it, something that she knew within her very soul Mycroft would never share with her no matter how much he trusted her. Perhaps it was one of his many classified secrets he held or it was even because it was much too emotional for him…

Molly could and would respect either one of those reasons. She really didn't need to understand the man to love him…Yet, perhaps she understood him just enough to find it easy to love him.

Mycroft cleared his throat. "Molly you seem to always purposely forget that _I am_ the British Government."

"Must we have this conversation again? Really? You know I find what you do to be incredibly dull! Truly boring as hell…wait, I take that back _hell_ would be a thousand times more interesting than what you do for a living…"

"Molly—"

"At least, I don't find _you_ dull." Molly quickly informed him, for heaven forbid that she hurt the feelings of such a fragile and sensitive man…

Mycroft sighed and slowly moved back to the chair he had been sitting in earlier.

"I am sorry…" Molly found herself telling him, looking down at her bandaged hand. Suddenly flashes of why her hand hurt and why it needed such a thick bandage flooded her mind.

The terrible memories came to a sudden stop when Mycroft's voice interrupted the horrible flood as a calm, soothing balm is quite known to do. "Please don't be sorry, I'm absolutely delighted that you don't find _me_ dull. Though there are people out there that actually long to do what I can do."

"Oh, yeah, sure if they are all old, boring farts who like to pretend to be pompous important arses and also have a very strong control freak complex…" Molly suddenly thought about what exactly she was saying to quickly tell him, "Not that you are any of those things, mind you, except for the control freak part."

Mycroft stared at her before he blinked rapidly for a few timers as if she finally succeeded in shattering his dear, precious brain or perhaps he was simply counting himself so damn lucky in finding such a wonderful, delightful friend like herself…Yeah that was probably it!

At that thought, Molly almost smiled…

"Of course, I've never once denied being a 'control freak'." Mycroft replied promptly once his brain went back to working normally, or at least what passed as normal for him.

This time there was no 'almost' about her smile and something flashed within Mycroft's eyes…It was a special warmth and to be honest, it was really quite beautiful. Molly wasn't sure what that 'something' was but she found that she really liked it.

Actually Molly liked that look in his eyes quite a lot. It made her heart actually skip a beat and as far as she knew it wasn't because of some medical condition that she had.

"So…what exactly happened?" Molly couldn't help but ask until a sudden worrisome thought hit her, "Oh, God, Toby! Is he okay? There was so much that was broken and goodness what if he hurt his paws?"

"Toby's fine, Molly." Mycroft quickly reassured her. "He is quite safe and sound. The MI6 agent that attempted to put him in his cat carrier to bring him here…isn't for some reason."

"Toby's here?" Molly questioned.

"Of course." Mycroft spoke as if it was all quite apparent and very obvious. "He's here in the estate…somewhere. Toby has been well feed and is having all his needs seen to."

"He's somewhere? Where?" Molly sharply demanded to know.

Mycroft sighed. "Last I checked with the staff, he was happily resting in my room…on my bed no less, just what I need, hmm, cat hair everywhere."

Molly gave him another genuine smile, "Toby_ loves_ you…"

Mycroft looked away as he shifted in his chair, "Well, of course he is already acting like the Lord of the manor."

"Well, yes, he would, he is a cat Mycroft…It's real nice of you to watch over Toby while I'm here." Molly said very gratefully.

Mycroft glanced back at her before stating carefully, "It's not just Toby that's here…"

Molly simply eyed him questionably until he cautiously continued, "_Everything _you own is now here as well."

Her jaw instantly went slack, before blinking at him, truly stunned, "What?" she breathed.

"Everything you own is now here…" Mycroft repeated, now openly staring at her. His face now expressionless.

"My flat?" Molly asked.

"Is no longer yours." He informed her with a shrug. "It was obviously a highly questionable neighborhood, one which you had no business living in. So now I've made quite certain that you no longer live there anymore."

Molly took some deep breaths. She could understand his concern, sure, and perhaps even his need ot control and protect those he cared strongly for but this…How dare he—

"You can always _try_ later to find a new place." Mycroft quickly replied, "Until then, I have a very large estate with plenty of room. I will give you an entire hall of rooms to do with as you like. Hell, take all the rooms. You can knock down walls and decorate in any fashion that you like…Do whatever you wish with the estate. I don't really care as long as you live here with me. Think of it much like having a flat mate, instead you are an estate mate."

"Mycroft…I can't…" Moly attempted to protest.

"It's what friends do, yes? You now need a place to stay, one where a serial killer won't try to have his wicked and nasty way with you. Sherlock's one and only best friend was his flat mate and they lived together quite happily for a very long time…and seeing that we are besties now…What is the harm?"

Molly wasn't' sure how to answer that…but…well…Oh, God…Why did the man she loved and was her best friend have to be a total control freak? Seriously, why? Especially one who was rich and supposedly a very powerful man?

No, seriously why? She really wanted to know…

It's bad enough that she gets serious crushes on high-functioning sociopaths…She actually had dates with users, manipulators, and once she even dated a consulting criminal mastermind…and here she is falling madly in love with Mycroft Holmes, master control freak and a man who hated sentiment, who didn't trust people or even like them all that much and he was even _the_ British Government which told her that he did extremely boring things for a living…Maybe there was something seriously wrong with her. She really needed to seek professional help or better yet, have Sherlock come back and yell all kinds of vulgar things at her…

"The harm? You are seriously asking that? Seriously, Mycroft?" Molly asked him truly aghast with what he had done _and _what he was telling her.

Mycroft actually looked momentary confused as he continued to stare at her in silence.

"I can't live here with you!" Molly informed him heatedly.

"Why not?" His confusion quite evident in his tone.

Seriously for a man who actually claimed to be 'the smart one' he could be so damn stupid at times!

"Because!" Molly yelled at him, as if that word alone could explain everything.

"That's in no way a good enough answer. You are obviously going to stay here, so don't fight it." He responded back with his arms crossed, and his tone clearly stated, 'I-know-what-is-best-for-you-you-silly-woman-so-listen-to-me-the-non-silly-man'.

Molly did her best to glare at him, not that it had any effect even on him for he knew damn well that she couldn't even fight a paper bag much less him at the moment…

Molly wondered if she had enough strength to slap him, it would be quite a weak slap but still…

"_Because_ you bloody stupid moron, at some point I'm going to get tired of us simply kissing all the time and I do enjoy kissing you, no doubt and let me tell you that I'm not a slut but my hand will be unzipping those blasted butler like trousers of yours and I'll be having my wicked way with you! Yet, if I'm already living with you…Well, there is no way in hell that I'm going to be a kept woman! Mycroft Holmes no way in hell, do you understand me? My friends and others will see me as a kept whore and that is _**not**_ going to happen! _**EVER!**_"

Mycroft slowly uncrossed his arms and blinked rapidly at her for a few moments as if completely stunned. After a bit he cleared his throat to say with certainty, "Well, of course, you are no kept woman or a whore…You will never be either of those things!...Um…Do you really want to unzip my trousers?"

Mycroft Holmes might be the British Government but it seems he was _still_ a man.

"Of course, I do! Just not right now, I have more than a headache, Mycroft!"

"I-I know and t-that's not what I meant!" Mycroft quickly informed her.

"It's just…I'm taking my time with you…For you are so Victorian in so many ways! And I'm a woman with needs, Mycroft and sometimes I'm a bit aggressive when…when the need is upon me…Also, heaven forbid with my luck and with you being at times so fragile, you'll probably end up in a corner somewhere crying rape!"

"I will not!" Mycroft fervently denied.

Molly had to admit to eyeing him very doubtfully as well as suspiciously for there was a chance he was lying to her.

"I will _**not**_ cry rape." Mycroft repeated firmly.

"Right…" Molly said carefully and very slowly, still feeling quite doubtful about the whole thing…

"I won't cry rape. Honest." Mycroft replied with more than an ounce of great certainty. "You can be as aggressive as you wish. I've been waiting until I was quite certain you were truly ready to be in…such a relationship with me."

A small grin flickered across Molly's face before teasing, "Are you sure it's not because you are waiting to see if a certain little pill will work?"

Mycroft once more did his cute little blinking thing that she truly loved before he snapped vehemently at her, "I don't need medication to get a-a…I've told you before there is nothing wrong with my equipment …It works quite well!"

Molly couldn't help but giggle before stating with highly amused eyes, "All I'm saying is that I completely understand for a man of your age could easily have…you know…" Molly suddenly whispered, "Problems with getting your rooster to crow…"

"My rooster crows just fine, thank you very much! Now let's get back to the subject at hand, yes? You _will_ stay here at my estate."

"The answer is no, now, how do you know if your rooster crows? Have you tested it recently?" Molly couldn't help but ask.

Mycroft looked at her as if he already had the entire world upon his shoulders and she just had to ask him for a quick piggy back ride to the store that just so happened to be in the next town…

He sighed heavily, "Fine, there are times when I shower in the mornings that…I…will…um…" Mycroft stopped to avert his eyes from hers and Molly bit her bottom lip in great delight at the bright blush that was forming upon the man's cheeks. _She_, Molly Hooper, had just made the British Government blush!

She watched Mycroft swallow hard before continuing, all the while acting like his blush wasn't happening…Oh, right the famous 'ice man' would _**never**_ blush… "So, you see, I know for a fact that my rooster is happy, healthy and works quite beautifully…"

"I'm glad." Molly informed him honestly. For when she felt better…She was going to use those brightly colored rainbow fun condoms…So she was very glad indeed…

Mycroft cleared his throat, "Molly, you no longer have a flat so please stay here with me. As I've stated, I have a lot of room. Perhaps more than one man needs and you can make this place into your own home."

"Mycroft—"

"Listen, you don't have to live here for free, if it really matters to you. I'll set up an account that you can pay right into…"

"Mycroft, I can't afford rent on half of an estate!" Molly told him, slightly horrified at the possibility of such a cost. For his estate was in no way small.

"And I don't need the money." Mycroft told her. "You can continue to pay the exact amount that you paid for that horrible place in that ghastly neighborhood. You'll be safe here and…and I find that I would indeed like to have you here with me. Maybe...Just maybe my house gets a bit lonely sometimes…Seeing that I don't need to accept your money…why don't I…or we…donate it regularly…I'll donate as well. Kind of paying whatever rent you pay. It would be sent anonymous, of course, to any animal shelter or any other causes that you wouldn't mind receiving what I'm sure would be considered much needed funds."

"Like a local woman's shelter, perhaps…" Moly asked softly, her body utterly still. Truly amazed at what he was telling her. He would willingly donate as well and carelessly call it 'rent'. That should be insulting yet his idea in many ways made her love him even more.

"Of course." Mycroft confirmed without even blinking, as if it was one of the simplest of things. "See, we will simply be two mates sharing and 'renting' a living space much like Sherlock and John use to, or how they use to do it anyway."

"I…I'd like that a lot, Mycroft, I really would. Thank you." Molly told him, not realizing that her heart showed it's self purely upon her face.

"You're welcome." Mycroft answered back quite softly. Studying her as if she was a painting created by a famous master painter, quite thoughtful, he even seemed to like what he was seeing.

There was a moment of very comfortable silence between them.

"So… Greg must be happy about that ass wipe being caught."

"Who?" Suddenly recollection flashed within Mycroft's eyes. "Oh, right, Lestrade. He might not even realize that the government has as you so affectionately call him the 'ass wipe', who just so happens to be in my custody for the time being…"

Molly felt her good eye narrow on him, to say firmly, "Mycroft. The police need him in _their_ custody not yours. There are families of those women he savagely murdered out there that need to know he was caught and won't be getting away with such evilness. They need to know the ass wipe will stand trial for what he has done and pay greatly for what he so carelessly took away from them. I worked on a lot of those bodies, Mycroft, and it could have so easily been me on my own slab. You will hand him over to Greg with a smile, even if it is a fake one!"

"I am personally making the ass wipe pay, Molly!" Mycroft informed her with a very cold edge. His face unforgivingly hard. "He doesn't need a trail, I've already judged him and he will live to regret—"

"NO! Mycroft, no! Hand him over to Greg and let him and those victims families know that they can at least try to get some sleep at night! You know I'm right! Yes, you can imprison him, torture him in any dungeon that you can design…We both know you are a powerful man, who can make that horrid monster disappear from the face of the earth, I have no doubt of that. You can easily make him pay every waking second he lives but those families out there will still be haunted, they will still wonder why the police aren't working hard enough to find their loved one's killer. They will always miss the one they lost but they need the monster caught! Also, you know damn well that Greg will never stop looking! He will keep working the cases no matter how cold they become until he drops dead. It's wrong not to let others know that the ass wipe is no longer on the streets killing!"

"Fine. I'll hand him over,_ for you, _Molly, I'll hand him over."

"Thank you." Molly stated kindly, happy that he was going to do what she felt was right. "You are really a good man, deep inside, Mycroft Holmes and sometimes I don't think you give yourself enough credit for being such a man…"

Mycroft waved a dismissive hand as if nothing really mattered. "All that matters now is that you are completely safe and sound."

Another thought hit her quite randomly as she asked, "You missed your important meeting, didn't you? God, Mycroft, I'm so sorry…"

"Don't be. It wasn't as important as I believed it to be for…" Mycroft stopped and his grip on her bedrail tightened slightly before he softly continued, _"Something_ _much more __**important**__ to me came up."_

Molly swallowed hard, so deeply touched by his words she reached out with her good hand and grasped Mycroft's hand. He quickly let go of the cold metal rail and captured her warm hand in return. His fingers then treaded with hers, squeezing slightly. It was a beautiful comfort…

"I was on my private jet with Anthea and a few other members of my staff when I received your call. I had the jet turn around immediately…As you know, you are in my 'special' file. Agents are to watch over you from a distance, never to be noticed and interfere in your life unless you are in extreme danger. They didn't realize there was a serial killer in your flat…While I had you on the phone, Anthea and the others got a hold of all agents working in about a ten mile ratios and even had a special government team called in that…does…certain highly classified things for this country and the only thing this special team seems to fear is my wrath for some odd reason. There was a lot of things going on while I was in the air…I was kept in constant detail of what was happening as I was listening to you fight for your life…I'm glad that…you are very much alive. For a second there…" Mycroft told her all of this quietly, yet the last was spoken so softly it was almost hard to hear. He also acted as if he was sharing a deep secret with her…A secret that would only be shared with her.

"I'm glad I'm alive, too, Mycroft, very glad." Molly shared right back, her tone thick with emotion.

For some reason Mycroft gave her a small nod, before he reached out with his free hand and tenderly caressed her cheek. She watched him lean down towards her and his lips found hers quite easily. It was a slow, deep and delicious kiss.

Mycroft's beautifully tender kiss was exactly what she had so desperately needed. What they both so desperately needed, in fact.

When his lips left hers, Molly saw that in Mycroft's eyes there was that special look in them once more. She was tempted to ask him about it when he suddenly informed her, "For now if you need anything from your own items or anything at all, please let me, Anthea or any of my-our servants know and whatever you want will be brought to you immediately…Also, seeing that you don't have a pocket at this moment…" His hand lightly patted his small vest pocket, "If you will allow me to watch over your brother's button I will keep it quite safe until you are up and about and also able to wear pockets."

"That would be lovely, thank you." Molly whispered.

He opened his mouth as if to say something else yet whatever it was she'll never know for at that moment the sound of a sharp knock filled the air.

"What!" Mycroft snapped at the door as if highly resentful over the interruption.

"Mr. Holmes, you had requested some time with my patient but I really must insist that you let me do my job." A thick Scottish voice spoke from the other side of the door.

Mycroft seemed to regrettably and quite reluctantly, slowly remove his hand from hers before he quickly moved towards the door to open it.

"So, you _insist_, do you?" Mycroft coldly asked the doctor standing before him.

"You are paying me a great deal of money to personally take care of Dr. Hooper, why do you wish to waste your money and my time?" The doctor answered right back.

Mycroft stared the doctor down with an arctic air that would have easily developed frost bite upon any normal human being. After a long intense moment, Mycroft looked back at Molly, his face seemed to soften for a brief instant before he informed her, "If you don't like this doctor or even the nurse I hired to take care of you, please let me know and they will never be heard from again…"

With a cold smirk towards the doctor he left, allowing the doctor to go in to see Molly.

With stunned wide-eyes, she waved and smiled weakly at the doctor, "Hi and I'm very certain that my friend was simply joking with you…H-Honest!"

The doctor gave Molly a look that seemed to scream how highly doubtful her words really were.

So with that the doctor went to work looking her over quite carefully…asking medical questions…

At some point during the exam she let her mind wonder…

Mostly about Mycroft and the delightful box of brightly colored condoms in her possession.

What color would she use on him the first time they became lovers? There were so many colors to pick from…and it was now a certainty, they would be becoming lovers…

How about purple? She liked purple…Though the sunny yellow could be interesting…Then you have the rich bright blue…The yummy wonderful green…Red would be a nice cheerful color for Mycroft to wear…

No…

Not that…

"Oh, the orange one!" Molly found herself saying out loud with great delight, making the doctor give her a very strange look.

Molly bit her lip, a little embarrassed at being caught saying that out loud. Not that the doctor knew what she was talking about but still…

Also, to be completely honest she really didn't care what the doctor thought…

Orange was such a lovely and fun bright color…

She couldn't wait to see Mycroft's face when it came time to tell him what exactly he would be wearing when the event she was looking forward to happened…

Molly had a feeling it would be highly remember able!

~*~END OF PART 14~*~


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